Getting It Right
by BruisedSmile
Summary: Jesse St. James was never one to walk away from a challenge. Season Three with a St. Berry twist. Also features Klaine, Brittana and St. Fabray friendship. Episode 7 up. WIP
1. Deal Me In

**Getting It Right** - Deal Me In  
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><p>Purple pianos.<p>

Didn't that just so completely sum up the flamboyant ethos of New Directions? Outdated, ridiculously random, unnecessarily distracting, misplaced and misguided and utterly nonsensical._ This_ was their plan? This was their grand attempt to salvage the shreds of their reputation and rebuild a force capable of taking the trophy from Vocal Adrenaline? Oh please. Did Schuester honestly think spontaneously bursting into cheesy song around McKinley, _à la_ _High School Musical_, was going to in any way encourage anyone without a death wish to join their merry band of rejects?

It would have made him laugh if it wasn't so pitifully tragic.

Jesse sighed and slumped back in his seat. He was nearly biting through his tongue in an effort to stop his scornful thoughts from passing his lips, managing to merely roll his eyes as the eager divas of New Directions ran over to practically sprawl themselves over the offending objects as if they were coveting tips from an audience of drunk businessmen in the middle of a sleazy hotel bar. Normally he wouldn't have bothered to temper his tongue, to sheath his brutally caustic opinions, and he certainly wasn't doing it in an attempt to endear himself to this motley crew. He had just learned to save his energy. He had learned it wasn't worth the effort to waste his time on the everyday battles of frivolity they seemed intent on subjecting themselves to. It was beyond infuriating and deeply depressing, but he had finally come to the weary acceptance that this was simply the way they operated. So he had taught himself to endure. Well, mostly.

He had intended to start this new school year with a fresh strategy of dealing with his wayward and eccentric clients. The passing summer had involved a lot of rethinking and evolving game plans. Jesse was nothing if not adaptable and dedicated, and the stakes of victory were so much higher this time than they had ever been before.

Yet it was only the first day of term and already they were testing his resolve to breaking point. Clearly they required an alternate approach than that which had defined the success of Vocal Adrenaline and he had soon realised that the normal rules didn't seem to apply here, much to his chagrin. A level of childish indulgence was needed and expected, and since he was now in the minority in regards to his views on hard work and professionalism, it was a concession he was forced to adhere to. Gritting his teeth so hard it made his jaw ache, Jesse held his silence and waited as Schuester went on to explain the assignment for that week, clearly as enraptured with his own idea as the rest of the club.

The mention of the embarrassing debacle that had ensued in New York was not a surprise, nor was the flurry of side glances that darted across the room, wavering between the three players in question. A familiar knot of tension clenched in his stomach at the bitter memory, but his outward façade revealed no hint of an emotional response, adverse or otherwise. He sensed her gaze flicker in his direction, those soft warm eyes skimming over his expression with a vague apprehension, but she quickly glanced away again, returning her attention to the boy beside her with a bright smile and the awkwardness was soon lifted as the Glee kids took to their assignment with a giddy enthusiasm that could only spell disaster.

Yep, this year was going to be… interesting.

_/o/_

Time seemed to stretch into slow motion for one hideous moment, the dreaded yell echoing around the cafeteria like a battle cry, sealing their fate.

Rachel barely had time to blink before the room erupted in an assault of flying food stuffs. Screams and shouts pierced the air along with the barrage of slimy missiles and various projectiles that were hurled in their direction. Hands shot over heads and feet stumbled across the slippery floor as the cheerleaders and other respective students attempted to make a dash for it. People were trying to hide and clumsily falling back while still more leapt into the fray, showering the air with hot and cold debris that proceeded to find their targets with a depressing accuracy.

It was like a bad dream. In fact, she was sure she'd had this particular nightmare before – so maybe she should be grateful that at least she wasn't naked this time. But as a spray of damp cabbage hit her chest, Rachel realised that the reality of such a cruel humiliation was so much worse.

She was still reeling in horror, almost frozen on the spot, numbly resigned to the utter misery of the situation. Suddenly she flinched as a dinner tray abruptly obscured her vision, nearly slamming into her but managing to intercept the fistful of spaghetti that had been hurtling towards her face. Rachel recoiled backwards, fingers flying to her nose protectively, blinking in disorientation even as a hand shot out and grabbed hers through the commotion, holding fast and tugging strongly. She stumbled and ducked through the noise and mess, unable to do anything but follow after the commanding grip that seized her fingers and dragged her along. The tray was still held over her head, shielding her from the worst of the onslaught, their grip shifting to gather her in firmly under a sheltering arm. As Rachel tucked her head against a warm chest and huddled in tight, as she breathed in the subtle tang of citrus that lingered under the array of food stains, she suddenly realised that she knew this particular aftershave – she knew this shirt, this hand, this touch.

And it made no sense.

Emerging, blinking and dazed into the fresh air of the quad once more, Rachel quickly disentangled herself from his embrace and attempted to catch her breath.

"Jesse?"

A frown furrowed her brow as she looked back at her unexpected rescuer, squinting as if it was a trick of the sunlight, her face full of doubt even as she tried to pick the crumbs and lettuce off her dress. She _would _have worn white today, she thought with a grimace.

He spared her a glance in silent answer, humour dancing in his eyes despite the distaste that coloured his expression as he ran a hand through his hair and shook the food off his own clothes. Her gaze flickered down and she was aggrieved, but unsurprised, to notice that he appeared to have come off relatively unscathed from the fight – the worst of the stains easily disguised thanks to his usual dark dress code. She huffed under her breath. How typical.

She made a face, a cool note of sarcasm in her voice. "Why is it, whenever there is food being thrown – you always seem to appear?"

He didn't appear remotely fazed by her words, waving them away with an easy arrogance she had come to expect. "You're welcome," he replied dryly.

Rachel straightened up and crossed her arms as primly as she could with chilli sauce and spaghetti splotched down her dress. "Still trying to make amends, huh?"

He caught her eyes, the edge of his mouth tugging with an infuriating smugness. "I never apologise more than once."

_If that._

Rachel scoffed and looked away, an irritable sigh on her lips. She was hot and sticky and had green beans down her bra, but she wasn't about to attempt to retrieve them in front of Jesse. She winced uncomfortably and he smirked, a knowing glint in his eyes that made a prickling heat creep up her neck. Rachel quickly forced herself to still, shooting him a disapproving scowl that hid her embarrassment.

"You do realise that was really,_ really_ stupid," he said at last.

She rolled her eyes, lifting her chin in the air defiantly. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"I'll certainly never understand why you guys insist on putting yourselves in the gallows of public humiliation," he quipped back. "This is a common Midwest high school with a cut-throat hierarchy, not a fucking _Disney _channel movie. You're not going to get a standing ovation in the middle of a lunch cafeteria."

"Well, we're never going to get any new recruits if we don't try," she pointed out, shrugging her shoulders stubbornly. "It's what the glee club does. And we need to recruit more members if we're to even qualify for Nationals. We can't be afraid of the wrath of the unenlightened masses."

"I know," he said impatiently. "But you have to earn the status to pull off stunts like that. It's simple politics. Until you can make the glee club a viable threat and trade on a decent reputation, you need to appeal to the ones who don't care about such things under the radar." He eyed her closely with a gentle frown. "Why are you so keen to put yourself on the firing line just because Schuester says so? Your self respect is worth more than that."

Rachel looked up to meet his eyes, her expression caught on the cusp of a rare uncertainty that only ever seemed to surface in his presence. She wanted to argue with him, wanted the safety of temper and scorn, but she suddenly didn't have the energy or clarity of conviction anymore. Jesse smiled in amusement, a softening in his features and darkening of his gaze that was so familiar it sent a hot ache pounding through her chest.

"You have macaroni in your hair," he murmured with a smirk.

Rachel couldn't stop the grudging curve of her lips as she was forcibly reminded of the ridiculousness of their appearance. Here they were, coated in the contents of volleyed lunch trays, having just escaped the most epic food fight McKinley had seen in years, and they were _still _debating the merits of her performance. She rolled her eyes. Trust him to see the funny side.

Jesse raised his hand to her head, running his fingers through her hair as he carefully picked the pasta out of the tumble of her dark locks. Rachel faltered as she violently forced down the dangerous tingle that stirred in her stomach. Her eyes quickly dropped from his, unsure what to make of the surge of butterflies that fluttered through her ribcage at the strangely tender touch.

"Not your best look," he teased, stroking his thumb so very lightly over her temple before slowly withdrawing his hand. Rachel untensed a few knots, unaware that she had been holding her breath.

She sighed wearily and sagged against the wall, closing her eyes. "They really hate us," she mumbled.

"Jealousy is an ugly emotion."

She opened her eyes and glanced over at him. There was a faint shadow to his expression, tightening the edge of his eyes and tilt of his mouth almost invisibly. She blinked and it was gone. Her gaze moved over him, an unconscious smile of laughter crossing her lips as she took in the sight of his attire again.

"What?"

"It's just…" Rachel shook her head, the grin widening as a giggle broke from her. "I think this is the most unkempt I've ever seen you. I never thought I'd see the immaculate Jesse St. James with mushy peas down his waistcoat."

Jesse gave a reluctant laugh, and the warm sound made Rachel smile as she skimmed her hand over his chest, picking off the errant shreds of food almost absently – repaying his earlier gesture.

"Things are certainly never boring around you guys," he admitted. "You just seem to attract trouble, don't you?"

"I suppose you would know," she said softly, looking up to meet his eyes. She was barely aware of her fingers as they lingered against the buttons of his shirt, not sure if she only imagined the feel of his heartbeat under her palm.

There was a fresh assault of shrieks and yells from the cafeteria behind them, and the cacophony of noise seemed to abruptly crash down on them both like shattered glass. She hastily pulled away from him, blinking down at her hands as if her body had betrayed her on purpose. Her gaze darted to the doorway, to the chaos that was still raging beyond.

Rachel chewed her lip guiltily, unsure if she had had a lucky escape or not.

_/o/_

It had been twenty minutes since Kurt had dropped her off at home and she had not stopped pacing the entire time. She couldn't get that damn performance out of her head. How, _how_, had they managed to underestimate their competitors so badly? Their arrogance had completely blinded them – they had gotten complacent. They weren't unique in their dreams or ambition and they certainly weren't the undisputed best talent of their generation. They didn't have the experience; they didn't have the credits… What if they just didn't have what it took to be a star? What if _she _didn't have what it took? The thought was so hopelessly frightening it cramped her stomach in pain. Crossing the floor of her bedroom one more time, she brushed a hand across her puffy eyes and sniffed loudly.

No. Kurt had been right. Enough with the pity party.

Crumpling the tissue in her hand, she flung it into her desk bin and whipped out her cell instead. As the ringtone filled her ear, her hand clenching around the phone, she tried to convince herself her finger had slipped. After all, Finn was the one she usually called in these circumstances – the one she turned to in times of crisis and who always knew what to say to make her feel better. Right? But as she pressed the phone harder to her ear, grinding her teeth as she waited for him to answer, she couldn't bring herself to disconnect.

She bitterly resented it, but she couldn't deny that he was the only person who was capable of truly understanding her fear right now.

"They were absolutely _amazing_!" she blurted out angrily the moment she heard him pick up. "No, they were fucking phenomenal. I've never been so humiliated in my life, and that's _really _saying something. Why didn't you tell me they were that good?"

He didn't seem the least bit perturbed by her furious outburst.

"Because you wouldn't have believed me," he replied calmly. "You needed to see it for yourself. Welcome to the big wide world, Rachel. Consider it a long overdue wake up call."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"Look, you're an exceptionally talented performer. I've never said otherwise." She thought she heard him sigh quietly, and when he spoke again it was with a crushing conviction that struck right through her heart, settling down into the marrow of her bones. "But you're also extremely deluded and sheltered and it's made you vulnerable. You're used to being a big fish in a small pond. But that, what you saw tonight – that's _real _competition. Those are the people who want it just as much, who work even harder, who make every sacrifice and spend every minute of every day honing their talents until they are razor sharp enough to tear their rivals to shreds."

Rachel felt a swell of defensive anger break over her, burning through the tears that stung her eyes. She knew he was speaking the truth, that there was no maliciousness in his harsh words, but that didn't do anything to appease her grief or temper. "How the hell would you know?" she shot back scornfully.

"Because_ I_ auditioned for that school, Rachel."

There was a heavy pause as his reply sunk in. She blinked slowly, her mind scrambling to grasp the connotations and put a voice to them, her emotions struggling to keep up. Jesse was still the only one who could ever take the wind out of her sails.

"And you didn't…"

"Missed out by one place."

His answer was flat and blunt and she swallowed thickly. Rachel felt the mattress at the back of her knees and numbly sank down onto her bed. "Oh," she breathed quietly, a soft note of incredulity in her voice. It seemed almost impossible to comprehend. This was _Jesse_ after all. Jesse St. James didn't fail. Well, unless you count flunking out of UCLA. But Rachel wasn't entirely sure she did, suspecting that there had been other factors involved in that academic retreat, the one that had ultimately brought him back into her orbit.

She wanted to say that she was sorry, to ask him if he had plans to try again, but she couldn't quite bring herself to, knowing all too well that he didn't want to hear such condolences. Not from her. Apology had never been an easy bridge between them. Not after all they had been through.

"Rejection is something you have to accept and get used to," he went on at last, a gentle but firm edge to his tone. "You can't let it break you or get the better of you. Competition is hard and rough and relentless, and it's only going to get tougher as you move up the ranks. Schuester is doing you guys no favours by shielding you from all of that. You have to know the extent of what you are up against in order to make sure you are ready for it. I know it sucks but you have to use it to your advantage, use it to make you stronger, because you won't survive if you can't handle yourself in the face of that kind of fight." The beat of hesitation was brief but loaded. "Some things you have to learn the hard way, Rachel."

She took a deep breath, clenching a hand into the covers of her bed and closing her eyes. The question escaped her before she could stop it, soft and barely audible. "What if I'm not good enough?" she whispered brokenly, hating the waver of tears in her voice, the knot of fear in her chest threatening to choke her. The secret insecurity that haunted her every day, locked away in silence in a very dark corner of her mind. "Not everyone is cut out to be a star."

There was a moment before he answered her.

"True," he admitted slowly. There was an indefinable note of tenderness in his voice, tinged with the usual affectionate amusement that always came at her expense. "But some people are born to be."

Rachel felt a fresh dampness upon her cheeks, yet the cool streaks were warmed by the trembling smile that graced her lips. Kurt had said almost the same thing, and yet she didn't know why Jesse's words plunged so much deeper, held so much more power. She knew the doubt wouldn't be so quickly assuaged and that she still had a rocky road ahead of her. This school was her path into New York, into her future and the bright lights of her dreams. Yet if _Jesse_, with all his extra curricular credits and Vocal Adrenaline clout, if he had still been turned away – what did that say about their impossible standards? She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, wanting to ask him more questions but forcing herself to keep quiet. They could wait until another day.

The silence was easy and undemanding as it stretched between them, both parties taking a moment to let the whisper of the unspoken fill the air. Jesse was the first to speak, breaking the quiet with the melodic timbre of his voice once more.

"How did Kurt take it?"

"About as well as me."

"Cried like a girl?" he teased, though not unkindly.

Rachel gave a watery laugh. "Pretty much." She rubbed the back of her hand over her face before shuffling along to let herself fall back flat against the bed, sinking into the pillows that gathered under her head. "But at least he's still got something to celebrate this week. I imagine Blaine is comforting him as we speak."

"Oh yeah, I heard his beau had transferred over to your team." He sighed dramatically. "All very sweet but rather unoriginal if you ask me. Kinda stole my thunder a bit."

"Yeah," Rachel said with a touch of bitterness, rolling her eyes. "Except he _actually_ did it for love."

She could hear him smiling through the phone.

_/o/_

The shock of pink hair was clearly visible through the shadows of the stands.

She was lighting up another cigarette as he approached, the smoke curling around the silver hoop of her nose ring as she exhaled a deep breath. The slashed crop of her shirt revealed a glimpse of her celebrity tattoo as she moved to speak to another girl with an equally bored expression; one who looked like her face would fracture if she ever cracked a smile. She had definitely thoroughly researched the grunge look, and in a way, it was oddly working for her. Sure, it wasn't his thing, but who was he to judge.

Quinn Fabray certainly didn't do anything by halves, and he respected that at least.

The other girls noticed him first and they all straightened up, stiffening in unwelcome, their gazes a cautious mixture of hostility and intrigue. He didn't spare them a look of acknowledgement, merely slouching back against the metal stand as he waited for the former head cheerleader to sense the intrusion to her inner circle.

Those heavily black lined eyes briefly widened in surprise as she turned around to see what had drawn the attention of her friends. She had expected it to be another misguided member of her old team, maybe Rachel again, or even Mr. Schue – and she was fully prepared to scorn their attempts at reconciliation all over again. She was certainly not expecting the silent figure of Jesse St. James to be the one to greet her.

Well, this was new. She couldn't remember him ever bothering to go out of his way to speak to her during any of his past encounters with New Directions – why the hell would he be seeking her out now? Her gaze abruptly narrowed as it alighted upon his face, their eyes locking equally unflinchingly, her expression rife with distain.

This was the lamest attempt yet to get her back on side.

"What do you want?" she demanded in a bored drawl, her lips twisting mockingly. "Come to try and talk me into going back to glee club too? Didn't figure you for a messenger boy."

His mouth curved in an arrogant smirk though his eyes were just as hard as her own. "Actually, I'm more curious than anything else. I wanted to see it for myself." He nodded his head towards her dismissively. "After all, this is possibly the most note-worthy thing you've done since going into labour in the middle of a Regionals competition."

She scowled darkly at his smug condescension. He was still a conceited asshole.

Jesse was completely nonplussed at the array of glares levelled at him. He held Quinn's gaze with an unnerving coolness, a shadow of a smile on his lips. "Agreeing to torch the piano was a nice touch," he went on, a hint of almost pride in his voice. "I think you made your point."

"And what point is that?"

He was quiet for a moment as he studied her before lifting his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug, glancing away with disinterest. "You're fed up of it all. You're fucked and frustrated and pissed off – I get it." A tight smile quirked his lips for the briefest moment as he gazed out into the empty shadows. "Believe me, I get it. And you're doing the rebellious thing. Fine, but trust me – it gets old quick." His eyes turned back to hers and regarded the wary suspicion they found there. "But there are better ways of playing the game."

"I'm not playing any game," she replied stiffly.

"Everyone is," he interrupted, ignoring her objection. "Such is life. There are no outs 'til the final hand. And you're going to have to learn to deal with it."

She was quiet for a long moment. The skanks were silent behind her, strangely captivated by the tense exchange going on before them. Quinn rolled the cigarette between her knuckles as she regarded the boy in front of her, unsure what exactly he was trying to tell her, undecided about whether to listen.

"How?" she asked at last, her tone still unfriendly and deeply sceptical.

"By finding something worth fighting for."

She raised an eyebrow, a scoff on her lips. "And that's glee club is it?"

Jesse shrugged, a wry humour in his eyes. "Only you can make that call. Only you can decide the priorities of your own life. But if you don't look out for yourself first, if you're not prepared to fight your own corner, no one will. It's very easy to fall by the wayside, and I can tell you now – apathy is the ultimate downer."

Quinn frowned as they exchanged stony stares for a moment longer, trying to gauge the sincerity and truth to be found in such advice, still struggling to comprehend the unexpected source it had come from. After a beat of strained silence, Jesse finally straightened up and made to turn around, exiting the scene just as inexplicably as he had entered it.

She called out before she could help herself, her own curiosity getting the better of her.

"Why are _you_ still here then? Don't you have better things to do than tutor some hopeless misfits?" she asked sarcastically. "I thought you had bigger plans than hanging around this dead-end town for another year?"

Jesse turned back to meet her, a taunting smirk on his face. "Who says I don't?"

Quinn watched him for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought. "You won't win, you know." She swung her gaze away, a creeping resentment breaking through her words as she lowered her voice almost tiredly. "No one ever wins with those two."

"The war isn't over until the final showdown. And who knows," he added with a twitch of his lips as she met his eyes again. "That alone might be worth sticking around for."

"You really believe she's worth it?"

Jesse smiled. "See you around, Quinn."

_/o/_

"These pianos are still making music. And so are we."

Jesse groaned. He didn't just say that, did he? With a straight face? This guy really should be fronting _after school specials_ or something if he's going to insist on coming out with lines as wooden as that.

The sorry states of the purple pianos were sat upon the choir room floor, burnt and broken and trashed and yet still standing as symbols of inspiration in the eyes of New Directions. Casting a glance over the team who sat in the chairs behind him, Jesse considered again the sanity of his decision to stay. Towards the middle of the row, Finn had a gangly arm slung over Rachel's shoulders as she perched happily by his side – the club's woefully inadequate _'power couple'_ back on their thrones. Feeling a familiar wrench of disgust in his gut, Jesse was just about to return his attention back to his notes when she tilted her head an inch in his direction and caught his eyes shyly, a tentative smile of truce on her lips.

It was a fleeting connection and one broken far too quickly but it was enough to make him smirk to himself as he lowered his eyes to his notepad once more. He was under no illusions – he knew he had his work cut out for him this year, in more ways than one. But Jesse St. James was never one to throw his hand in, and the game had only just begun.

**~o~**

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><p><strong>AN<strong> I can't believe I'm attempting to start another multi-chap when I can't even update the ones I have going! *headdesk* But with the return of _Glee _to our screens, the prevalence of Finchel and no Jesse in sight to offer hope – the St. Berry love needs all the help it can get. Also, I blame _AlexisLovesGlee _for putting the idea of a Season Three rewrite into my head! ;) I have honestly no clue how this is going to work or pan out, but we'll see.

Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed. As ever, reviews make my day shiny :)


	2. Old Faces And New Allies

**Getting It Right – Old Faces And New Allies**

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><p>Jesse did a double take so sharply that his foot slipped on the accelerator, forcing him to wrench the wheel into an awkward angle and hit the brakes in order to avoid denting his fender on some wretched little rust bucket just in front of him. Cursing under his breath, he quickly resumed control and returned his attention to the sun drenched blacktop just outside the school, hoping that no-one had witnessed his momentary falter of concentration as he proceeded to slide the purring Porsche gracefully into a vacant space and cut the engine.<p>

Taking a deep breath he wasn't even conscious of, his eyes immediately found their way back to the vehicle that sat just a few spaces away, quiet and empty and yet so very familiar it made his throat tighten and stomach knot up uncomfortably. He studied it in silence, gaze narrowed in scrutiny, trying to talk his rational mind out of a conclusion it really didn't want to accept. He knew it was a long shot; that it could just be a fluke – but Jesse had never believed in coincidences and the feeling in his gut only served to confirm his instinct.

He knew that car. It was the same car he had seen in Carmel's parking lot for the better part of four years. The same car he had slipped into on a rain soaked and fateful night so many moons ago. It was _her _car.

Tapping his thumb against the steering wheel, Jesse let his mind turn over this surprising new development for a few more minutes, his emotions caught up in a wary turmoil he hadn't experienced in a very long time. This was something he had not expected or prepared for, and he allowed himself a moment to contemplate all the potential fallout this little visit could unleash. Still, that wasn't about to stop him or change his mind._ Nothing like a blast from the past to stir up trouble,_ he thought with a grim smile. Finally, he set his jaw, straightened up and stepped out of the cool air-conditioning of his car and into the glaring sun of bright afternoon.

He was a born player first and foremost and Jesse wasn't about to walk away from the game this time. It was now or never.

_/o/_

She found him first, just like he knew she would.

The auditorium was quiet and still, yet ever thrumming softly with anticipation – the constant promise of explosive drama and soaring song that echoed within its walls even now. It was nowhere near as impressive as the stage in Carmel or UCLA, but he had to admit, it did have a certain quirky charm. It would suffice anyway.

Crossing his arms, he leant back against the row of seats and regarded the open stage before him with a critical eye. The auditions were only scheduled to start tomorrow but already his astute mind and perfectionist nature had turned towards the task of envisaging how to bring her adopted show to the stage in the best possible way. _West Side Story_. He shrugged slightly to himself. Not one of his favourites but he could appreciate why she'd chosen it – and she would be the perfect Maria. A small smirk passed over his face. He would make sure of that.

His magnanimous agreement to help out with the musical had been an easy call to make. Unsurprisingly and to his mild amusement, the obvious decision had drawn some blundery objections from Finn, but as Jesse had smugly pointed out – he had more musical theatre experience than all of them put together and they would be frankly idiots to overlook it. Finn's sulking had only increased when Rachel had also duly voiced her support for his appointment– _'for the good of the show, of course' _– and the discussion was quickly settled and moved on to the next order of business. True, Jesse was less than thrilled about being assigned to work with Artie, the school's football coach and Schuester's OCD girlfriend for the project – but it was nothing he couldn't handle. They may not like it but they knew they needed him and unlike Schuester, he was more than capable of multi-tasking his extensive skill set effectively between this and winning Nationals. Besides, he smiled to himself – it was an opportunity he just couldn't pass up.

Jesse suddenly stiffened, a splinter of tension wracking his muscles invisibly as he was drawn from his reverie by a silent interruption he knew all too well.

She'd always had an inimitable presence, unmistakable even after all this time. He didn't move an inch from his position, no flicker on his expression to betray him even as he heard her speak up at last; the cool silk of her tone raking through his body in a shiver of déjà vu as she made her way down towards where he stood at the front of the auditorium.

"I heard you'd dropped out of college."

It was a statement, not a question of interest or even a subject of conversation. The assumption in her voice and confidence in her steps were just as assured as he remembered, and he wasn't at all surprised with her tactical choice of approach. He could smell the familiar whisper of her perfume as she came to a stop just a few seats away from him, close enough to just barely invade his personal space but still far enough to establish the boundaries of status.

She always set the stage on her own terms.

A tight smile curved his mouth for the briefest moment. It was nice to know that some things didn't ever change. She would always be the teacher, the mentor, the authority he both admired and resented – the connection that had ultimately driven them apart in a void of unspoken betrayal. Just like he would forever be the apprentice under her shadow in some way, her influence over him too great to ever fully negate. Whatever else might change between them, she would always retain that pull of superiority, that edge of control.

He was aware that their dynamic had always been an odd one, more intense than mere coach and student but perhaps never quite enough to forgive and forget. Such a conflicted history was not one easily smoothed over, despite the hollow sense of comfort to be gleaned from the familiarity of old ties. Even after all that had passed and divided their lives, Jesse could still feel the sense of mutual understanding and established respect that had lingered unbroken between them. Whether he had any semblance left of the privileged role of favour he had once held in her eyes, remained to be seen. He suspected not, but Shelby always played a cagey hand.

"Still keeping tabs on us?" he remarked with a hint of a smile, not taking his eyes from the stage in front of him, unwilling to meet her face just yet.

"Call it a vested professional interest," she replied evasively with a slight shrug. Her tone was calm and level and hard to read, guarded in a way she had rarely been with him when they had been alone, back in their old lives – back before it had all gone to hell. He thought he detected an air of judgement and disappointment in her voice, tinged with the accusation of wariness and suspicion. Jesse dipped his head in acknowledgment but said nothing, in no real rush to assuage her uneasiness.

"Though I have to say," she went on carefully, words heavily pointed despite the deceptive lightness in her voice. "I never expected to find you back here."

"I could say the same for you." He finally glanced over to her, taking in the mask of her features and set of her stance in the blink of an eye, the way the lines of her strategically placed dress clung to her figure as she laid one elegant hand against her hip. "I take it you're not here as the reluctant saviour of a woefully ailing Vocal Adrenaline."

"No," she confirmed, a faint smile touching her lips. "Not that they didn't try. And after that dismal performance at Nationals, who would blame them."

Jesse nodded in agreement, stubbornly shoving aside the unpleasant memories evoked by that particular last trip of his to New York. "Can't say I'm surprised that they no longer have what it takes," he said, allowing himself a thin smirk as he caught her gaze for a moment. "Goolsby never did have your imagination."

"I'm flattered," she murmured dryly, though the corner of her lips tilted in the promise of a smile.

Jesse turned his attention away again, a frown crossing his brow even as he lifted his shoulders indifferently. "I am surprised, though, that you ever agreed to leave New York. I thought you finally had everything you wanted." He heard the bitterness creeping into his voice and quickly buried it once more. "Wasn't that the whole point?"

Shelby sighed, curbing the defensiveness in her own tone with far greater success. "I was offered a job and I took it."

Jesse couldn't help the scoff that escaped him as he arched an incredulous eyebrow in her direction. "Coaching that tone-deaf rich brat? Please." He studied her closely, eyes sharp and knowing. "You never wanted to be stuck in Lima anymore than I did."

"Perhaps," she admitted with a soft breath, lowering her head an inch as if in weary resignation, but Jesse knew better than to take her at appearances. "But it's here that I made my mistakes and it's here that I have to try and put them right."

"For them or for you?"

She hesitated a moment before replying, voice low but firm. "Hopefully for all of us."

Jesse shook his head and glanced away, eyes narrowed in thought. "You know it doesn't work that way. Someone always loses."

There was silence for long moment.

"You're right," she said at last, a quiet force and determination in her voice that made him clench his jaw painfully in anticipation. She turned towards him, a challenge in her eyes which he met just as evenly, both aware of the battle line drawn up through her next words. She almost seemed to exhale the question in an impatient sigh. "What are you doing here, Jesse?"

He almost smiled at that, undecided about whether to indulge her. Of course she knew. He held her gaze for a dramatic pause before breaking away and looking out over the stage again. "You're not the only one with unfinished business."

He felt her eyes sweeping over him, shrewd and calculating in assessment, trying to break through the implacable show face that she herself had so rigorously instilled in him all those years ago. Shelby stood up straight and rigid as she regarded her former student and once willing ally, arms locked over her chest and gaze just as hard as her voice.

"I won't let you hurt her."

Jesse chuckled darkly. "Little late for all that, isn't it?" he pointed out, turning to confront his old coach in almost bored accusation. "You're just as guilty in this as I am."

Shelby didn't even flinch. "I never told you to publically humiliate her," she countered firmly, only an echo of retrained anger in her tone.

"No," he agreed sarcastically with a mirthless smile. "You taught us to succeed, to win, no matter what the cost." The air in the auditorium was frosty with simmering resentment, the tension as brittle as glass, and yet neither looked away nor made any indication of backing down. "You were never one to split hairs over methods before," Jesse argued coolly. "Results were what mattered, right? When did you ever care what happened to her heart?"

Shelby visibly stiffened but quickly gathered herself. "I'm still her mother –"

_"Don't,"_ Jesse snapped suddenly, pushing off from the row of seats to face her directly, voice rising vehemently. "Don't for one _second_ pretend that you're here for Rachel."

If Shelby was shocked at all by his abrupt outburst, she didn't show it. "And I suppose you have nothing but her best interests at heart?" she demanded mockingly.

"You're hardly one to question my motives," he shot back, eyes dark with anger. "You don't know anything about me anymore." He knew it was an immature thing to say, but he found that he didn't care. Jesse studied the impassive face of his former coach, trying to calm the tense flow of oxygen that rose and fell through his chest. He shook his head slowly in soft curiosity. "You have no idea what you did, do you?"

Shelby frowned in disapproval, though her control remained carefully intact. "Don't lecture me, Jesse," she ordered dangerously. "Don't stand there as if you have any claim to the moral high ground – not after the things you did."

"I _know _what I did," he uttered through gritted teeth. "I live with it every day." He held her gaze for a few moments more before finally moving to stride past her, suddenly wanting nothing else than to get the hell out of here and find the chance to get his head together. "Why don't you just make your amends and I'll make mine," he muttered over his shoulder.

"Jesse –"

He heard her voice call out in command and reluctantly paused despite himself, stilling on the steps that led out of the auditorium and back into the rest of the school. _Old habits die hard, _he thought bitterly. He felt her take a step towards him but didn't turn around, tension knotted tight throughout his body as he waited to hear her parting words.

"I'm not here to cause trouble," she said at last. There was a hesitation, during which he suspected she was debating how to best phrase her next words. Her voice was low and calm and full of familiar authority when she spoke again, a thinly veiled warning that seemed to pound in his ears. "But if you do anything to try and come between me and my daughter – everything changes."

Jesse tilted his head and spared her one last glance, catching her eyes with equal distrust, before he turned on his heel and left the room in silence.

_/o/_

Rachel pressed her palms flat against the table and let her head drop, a long and deep sigh leaving her lips. She was pretty sure she couldn't feel like a worse friend right now. Sure, she had debated texting him to see if he was okay, if he would let her talk to him, but her cell phone was in her bag which was currently dumped with the rest of her day clothes in a stall in the girls' bathrooms. A place she should really be heading back to in order to change out her intricate but rather inconvenient period costume and back into 21st century attire. She still had classes to get to after all. School didn't stop and math class wouldn't wait – not even for Shakespeare.

Feeling the heat of the mirror's bulbs upon her neck, she wearily raised her head and glanced up again, and promptly frowned in surprise at the reflection she found over her shoulder.

"You really need to stop sneaking up on me," she muttered.

She saw a smirk tug his lips, as unapologetic as ever, taking a moment to let his eyes glide down her heavy velvet gown in soft amusement. Rachel was suddenly acutely aware of just how warm the layers of the thick costume were against her skin.

"I thought Romeo and Juliet was our thing," he teased reprovingly, a mischievous twinkle in his gaze that made her roll her eyes. Jesse tilted his head in something like curious approval. "I have to admit though, I never thought you could make one of the most famous tragedies of the literary world into a comedy. Impressive."

Rachel frowned as she caught his eyes in the mirror again. "You shouldn't have laughed."

The smile widened. "I wasn't the only one, if you recall."

She winced guiltily and looked down. "I can't believe I did that. I feel just awful, how could I do that to him? He was counting on me and I let him down."

Jesse waved away her concerns with a dismissive shrug. "People get typecast. It happens to every actor and it's just something you have to accept. Besides, Kurt isn't right for Tony. You know that."

She shook her head, objecting despite herself. "We shouldn't deny him the chance –"

"The arts are all about doing what's best for the greater good," he interrupted firmly. "Not for personal egos or friendships. Tough decisions are made all the time and it's always for the benefit of the performance. The show always comes first. You can't compromise quality for hurt feelings."

Rachel sighed, unable to refute the truth of his words, but feeling terrible all the same. "Do you think he could ever pass as straight?"

Jesse was thoughtful for a moment. He doubted it, but then again, people had been known to surprise him. Rarely, but it happened. "I don't know. You'd be amazed how convincingly some actors can play against type," he offered instead.

She found his reflection once more, a playful arch to her brows. "Could you?"

He only smiled that infuriating grin of his. One that told her she would have to discover the answer for herself one day.

Rolling her eyes, she lowered her gaze back to the table and bit her lip worriedly as her thoughts turned back to her humiliated friend. "I don't know if he'll forgive me."

"Of course he will," Jesse assured softly, the conviction of his voice causing her to meet his eyes again. "He's crazy about you."

Rachel felt her heart expand and then constrict painfully in the same breath. Unable to speak, she gave a shy smile before quickly looking away once more.

Turning her attention to the myriad of pins that adorned her hair, she sighed and reluctantly began the excruciating task of retrieving each tiny black grip that had been twisted into her scalp in an attempt to keep her unruly waves in place. Jesse had moved to her side and was now slouched against the edge of the dressing table, idly fingering the array of hair products scattered there with a look that was a mixture somewhere between disgust and intrigue. Rachel spared him a quick frown, feeling like she should tell him to go already and leave her alone but finding she really couldn't be bothered. He could hang around for a few more minutes if he wanted, as long as he wasn't too much of a nuisance.

A condition that Jesse was apparently unprepared to agree to.

"So where's your _boyfriend_," he inquired suddenly. He didn't sound the least bit interested in hearing her response and she was certain she didn't imagine the sarcastic inflection of distain that coated the word.

"Getting ready for the boot camp," she said after a brief hesitation. "Mr. Schue finally decided to step up our game and address some of our more notable weaknesses. It's good to see everyone taking our chances seriously at last." Her eyes travelled to her left, to his averted face and the small thoughtful crease that marred his brow as he turned a pair of hair straighteners over in his hands distractedly. "Your idea?"

A knowing smirk curved his lips as he lifted his head to meet her face. "I might have had a few choice words," he conceded.

Rachel nodded, suspecting as much. It made sense after all. If anyone was in a position to point out and truly understand the lethal power of VA's physical co-ordination – it was their former leading star. The fact that it inevitably occupied Finn for a few hours every afternoon was no doubt an added bonus that Jesse was enjoying immensely. Suddenly uncomfortable, Rachel hastily drew her gaze back to the mirror and raised her fingers to her hair once more.

"He's not auditioning?"

She felt the heat of his gaze lingering on her but resolutely ignored it, not deceived at all by the casually innocent pitch of his voice.

"No," she replied defensively, aware that he knew full well Finn's name was not on the audition sign up sheet. "He has a lot on his plate right now, what with Nationals and working at the garage to save up for college and stuff. It's not a big deal," she went on, unsure who she was actually trying to convince more.

The truth was that it bothered her more than she would admit. She loved Finn with all her heart and she wanted him to be happy, and yet she was finding it harder and harder to dismiss the growing fear in her mind. Not that Finn wasn't prepared to follow his dreams with the same passion she did – but that he actually _was_. And the fact was that their dreams and worlds simply didn't coincide.

_No._ Rachel shook her head to herself as she quickly forced aside the painful doubt. She would find a way to make Finn see that he was better than an ordinary life in an ordinary town, that he could make it to the bright lights by her side.

"Good to know he has his priorities sorted out."

She cast a scowl in Jesse's direction, picking up on the underhanded tone of the pointed comment. "Did you come here just to annoy me?" she demanded, returning her attention to the task of freeing her long hair from the tight braid of ribbons that currently bound it.

"No," he replied smugly, pushing away from the table to move behind her once more. Rachel trembled, trying in vain to suppress the shiver that ghosted over her skin as his hands came up to rest upon the plait that ran down her back. She felt his fingers sliding slowly through her hair, gently working the ebony tresses loose from the shimmering golden lace with such infinite care that she found she could raise no voice in objection, falling uncharacteristically quiet under his touch as she acquiesced to his assistance.

"I came to tell you that you have nothing to worry about." He saw her raise her eyes in confusion and smiled. "Your audition was absolutely stunning. You totally nailed it."

Rachel felt herself beaming, helpless to curb the silly grin that broke across her face. "Really?"

Jesse nearly laughed at her adorably excitable enthusiasm. "Really."

He held her gaze for an almost unbearably warm moment, before dutifully lowering his attention to the threads in his hands once more. Rachel averted her gaze also, the bubble of elation slowly deflating under the pressure of the memories that rose to the surface of her mind. _She said it would be the perfect song…_

Rachel took a deep breath, the thought leaving her almost without permission.

"Did you know she was coming back?"

Jesse stilled at her quiet question, fingertips gripping into her hair unconsciously as he found himself battling with a fresh wave of unsettled emotion, the same storm cloud of conflict that had been haunting him ever since he had walked out of the auditorium the other day. He felt the tension that stiffened the planes of Rachel's back under his hands at his silence, and mentally cursed himself. Her voice sounded so childlike in that one moment, almost lost and so heartbreakingly unsure. He had known this was coming, it was part of the reason he had sought her out – to make sure she was okay, to check that she was coping, more or less, with the recent turn of events. But now he suddenly found himself lacking the strength to have this conversation.

"No," he said softly.

Rachel nodded jerkily and he had to restrain himself from winding his hands tight into the silken locks under his fingers – anything to help ground himself to the solace of her warmth and presence, the only thing he could see clearly anymore in the ever-shifting haze of uncertainty.

"You did it for her. All of it."

"Rachel…"

His throat felt dry and his voice seemed to crack on the word, falling away under the weight of everything he couldn't say.

She shook her head, absently brushing aside the sentence he couldn't finish. "She came to see me," she went on instead, still staring down at her hands as she pressed her fingertips into the surface of the table. A weak smile trembled on her lips at the bittersweet memory. "The song – it was her suggestion. We sang it together actually…" She trailed off, her brow furrowing as she attempted to make sense of her own thoughts. The duet with Shelby had been beautiful and perfect and when she took her hand in hers, for one moment, Rachel had felt like everything would somehow work out for them. But then the music had ended, their hands had fallen and Shelby had smiled at her through the untouched pools of sadness in her eyes. A sadness and regret that would always be there. A path of lost opportunities they could never revisit together, no matter how much either wished it otherwise.

Jesse's gaze was torn as he watched Rachel's face through the mirror, a wretched pain building in his chest that threatened to tear him apart at the seams. He could say nothing as he watched her silently gather herself, blinking hard and quick as she drew a deep breath and set her expression once more. She was clearly still bitterly confused and conflicted over her feelings about this whole mess, unsure of where she stood or how to take the next step. _A lot of that going around_, he thought wryly.

She was still intently studying her hands on the table below her, twisting her fingers together in that nervous habit of hers. Suddenly suffocated by the silence, Jesse broke the quiet with the only thing he could think of.

"So she didn't try to make you switch teams then?" he asked as lightly as he could.

Rachel's lips tugged in a ghost of a smile. "Not yet. It's a ludicrous idea in the first place, but I made it very clear where my loyalty lies anyway." She hesitated, her voice lowering with doubt. "I'm not sure _what_ she wants actually…If anything…" She glanced up and caught his eyes before quickly looking down again, features tightening almost in a wince of pain.

Jesse's hands gently dropped away from her hair, glancing over her back before abandoning contact completely, and Rachel shivered again as she felt the cool air that much more acutely in the sudden lack of warmth. She dug her teeth into her bottom lip to stop herself from protesting the inevitable withdrawal. She wouldn't ask him for anything or ever admit how much she enjoyed the forbidden grace of his touch. Even to herself.

"You should get to class," he murmured quietly without meeting her gaze.

Rachel studied him for a moment in the glass, looking like she wanted to speak. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, pressing her lips tight together.

"Yeah," she mumbled at last. Without another look or word, she picked up the heavy folds of her dress and walked away as gracefully as she could in the cumbersome garment, heading back in the direction of the girls' bathroom.

_/o/_

He found her sitting hunched up on the steps, a half-forgotten cigarette poised in her hand as she gazed out into the late afternoon sunlight with a dark frown – if possible, even more tragic looking than usual. He dropped himself down onto the step next to her in silence. Quinn stiffened but didn't verbally object to her uninvited company, neither sparing so much as a glance at each other in acknowledgment. Jesse didn't even pause to bother asking permission as he pulled a cigarette from the open pack that rested between them, cupping his hands around the small flame as he lit it up in his mouth.

She slid him a sideways look. "Since when do you smoke?"

He snapped the lighter shut and caught the cigarette between his fingers with a casual ease that suggested this certainly wasn't his first time. "I do have _some _vices, you know," he remarked dryly.

She sent him an impatient scowl and his mouth softened in a hint of a smile. "For a while when I was fifteen," he elaborated.

"Falling back into bad habits?"

He shrugged tiredly. "Rough week."

A bitter smile curled her lips as she returned her gaze outwards again. "I take it you're as thrilled with your dear mentor's return as the rest of us," she confirmed, sounding somewhat satisfied and utterly unsurprised at the fact.

"One big happy fucking family," he muttered. Jesse bent his head and tugged a restless hand through his mess of curls with a heavy sigh.

"And what would she say if she saw you hanging around with the delinquent and damaged teenage train wreck who isn't even fit to see her own child?" Quinn demanded almost idly, her nonchalant tone betrayed only by the clench of her knuckles and crashing waves of tormented anger in her eyes.

Jesse swept a glance over the profile of the girl beside him, pulling the cigarette back to his mouth as he contemplated his answer. "She'd kill me for smoking for a start," he said at last.

"But that's why you do it, isn't it?" Quinn challenged as she turned to face him, her eyes narrowing at him from under her black hat that she had yanked down low over her electric pink bangs. "Any opportunity to get one over on authority, right?"

Jesse only smiled. "Look at you," he drawled, voice softly mocking. "Getting all _Little Miss Psychoanalysis_."

Quinn eyed him sullenly, as if studying him properly for the first time. "You're not as hard to read as you think you are, you know."

"What am I then?"

She shrugged, flicking ash to the ground. "You're just selfish."

Jesse laughed but it was without much humour. "Everyone's selfish," he replied easily. "It's the only way to survive. At least I'm honest about it." He cast a look in her direction which Quinn refused to meet, turning her head away to examine the cigarette between her fingers.

He merely watched her for a moment, quietly turning over his own thoughts. She looked as fucked up as he felt, and the concept was hardly comforting. He knew what she was doing – turning her back on the world that she was convinced had screwed her over, lashing out at anyone and everything, desperately angry and lonely and set on self destruct. Jesse had witnessed for himself the latest victim of the skanks' bathroom ambushes earlier that day – hair dripping wet and wracked with hiccupping sobs, the girl had nearly crashed into him as she ran past in her haste to get away. The decent into violent bullying was not surprising, but it was a little disconcerting. Jesse drew the smoke into his lungs until it was painful, as if he could somehow burn away all the unwanted memories he had accrued during his short life. He'd been there before. And it was a path she didn't want to go down.

It was obvious that she was less than enthralled with Shelby's return, if possible even more so than him, and it wasn't hard to see why. A frown settled between his brows as he let his gaze wander over her face.

"Do you regret it?"

Quinn stiffened and took another drag, stubbornly holding her silence. He expected as much. He knew it was unfair. It was an impossible question.

"Do you?" she asked abruptly, firing the question back on him with a sharp glare.

Jesse raised an eyebrow, curious as to which dubious decision she was referring to. Coming back to Ohio; leaving it behind for the prize of a future he had then turned away from; ever agreeing to go along with Shelby's plan to infiltrate Rachel's life in the first place… It was a long list.

"I regret walking away from her," he said finally after a long and thoughtful pause. He bent his head and let his eyes unfocus on the haze of smoke that curled around his hand. A weary smile crossed his lips fleetingly. "Every day."

Quinn didn't reply, returning to her silence. She raised a hand to finger the silver necklace at her throat as she stared into nothing; her gaze lost somewhere he couldn't see.

"How much do you want to get her back?"

She started at the question, jerking back to him with suspicious eyes. Jesse held her stare calmly, watching as the resolve battled in her gaze, conflicting instincts warring against each other. Quinn swallowed hard, lowering her eyes to the stone step under them. "She's mine," she muttered thickly, almost too soft to hear.

Jesse gave an infinitesimal nod of understanding at her words, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. "Then the only question is, how far are you prepared to go to get what you want."

Quinn frowned as she eyed him in silence for a long moment, studying his closed expression as he gazed out across the quad. She knew that look, that frustration and pain of a heartache you could never heal on your own. She had just never expected to see it on him.

"You're still in love with her," she said quietly.

Jesse said nothing to her statement, his gaze dropping as he took a long drag and exhaled it almost in a sigh. After a moment of mutual quiet and reluctant understanding, he turned his head towards her.

"Do you still love him?"

She thought for a minute. "No…actually," she finally replied, surprised at her own answer. True, she would probably always love Finn in some way – he had been her first real relationship after all and first love was special. But she didn't love him anymore, though she had never fully realised it until this moment. And the acceptance of the end of that part of her life felt like a great relief somehow.

Jesse smiled in approval. "Knew you were smarter than you look."

Quinn rolled her eyes.

He stood up then, making to leave and crushing the burning cigarette out beneath his boot. It wasn't even half smoked.

"That's a waste of a good cigarette," she pointed out reprovingly, though she couldn't quite bring herself to inject the usual coolness into it.

He caught her eyes with a smirk. "I wouldn't say that."

_/o/_

Jesse winced as he passed the glitter strewn campaign posters that had sprung up to adorn the halls of McKinley over the last few days. It was like some kind of strange hallucinogenic trip, and it hurt to look at it for too long. Kurt really had no idea what he was getting into with student politics, none of them did. They lacked the necessary skills of manipulation, spin and charisma to play the popularity polls and climb the ladder. The 'quirky outsider' novelty would only get them so far. Frankly, if he didn't see another cotton pink candy rainbow or sparkling unicorn horn for the rest of the school year he would leave Lima happy.

Still, watching Kurt face off against Brittany in a debate for student president – he wouldn't miss that for the world.

Distracted by the sudden buzz of his cell phone, he dug it out and dutifully scrolled down to read the new message, unable not to smile as he saw the name that accompanied it.

_Have you still not posted that damn cast list yet? It's not official until it's official, you know! Sigh. You're still coming to rehearsal, right? Oh and did you hear – Quinn is apparently back in the glee club. Good news for Nationals…I guess._

Jesse smirked to himself and slid the phone back into his pocket.

**~o~**

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong> I'm aware that Shelby is OOC here, but I figure it's my Season AU so I'm allowed to take some creative license to suit my own evil ends. Mwhaha! Anyway, this episode turned out waaaay longer than I expected - I think because there was so much emotion to work through with Shelby's return just with Rachel and Quinn alone - so then also throwing Jesse into the mix was only ever going to lead to more angst! I'm exhausted now though, it's some ungodly hour of the morning over here so I'm off to fall into bed. I think I'll leave it a few days before watching the next episode - my poor muse needs some down time!

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Thanks also so much to everyone who has reviewed and faved/alerted this fic so far. I love hearing what you guys think :) Until next time!


	3. A Forgone Conclusion

**Getting It Right - A Forgone Conclusion**

* * *

><p>"This isn't about doing your best anymore. It's about doing better."<p>

Jesse frowned and glanced over, unsure if he had heard correctly or was just having a particularly vivid flashback. Had those words really just left the affable and doting Will Schuester's mouth? Boy, the mild-mannered, _'feel-good'_ coach of the underdogs was really channelling the ethos of Vocal Adrenaline in a big way today. He raised his eyebrows in silent thought, not entirely convinced as to whether the current display was impressive or simply cringeworthy. It was just an outsider observation, but _'tough love' _didn't really sit well with Schuester. Then again, he dismissed with a mental shrug, the guy was fairly new to it and maybe he would grow into his newly acquired backbone.

As the group dispersed a short while later, Jesse made his way over to the practice bars that had been moved into the auditorium for the benefit of boot camp. Crossing his arms over the wooden railing, he observed Mercedes stomping away out of the corner of his eye, exiting the stage rather sullenly and without even bothering to acknowledge a goodbye to the rest of her team.

"That was interesting," he said at last, speaking low enough that only the person closest to him could hear.

The intended recipient of his comment cast a look in his direction, taking in the casual poise of his manner as he slouched against the bars next to her, an understated elegance and balance in his body that was quietly enviable. Flicking some short, blonde flicks of hair out of her face, she rolled her eyes and returned to her stretches. Her limbs were burning with the familiar sting of exertion and her face ached from the parade of false smiles she had forced onto it, but all her years in the Cheerios had only reinforced the invaluable routine of stretching before and after any rigorous exercise. It was still second nature to her.

"Tantrum of the week," she sighed in response, her face contorting in a small grimace as she continued to ease out her bruised muscles. "We take it in turns, don't you know. Someone's always having a crisis."

Jesse smirked in agreement but still looked somewhat thoughtful, tilting his head in detached curiosity. "Is it just me, or did all that hard-line attitude seem to come out of left field?"

Quinn shrugged. "Welcome to McKinley," she muttered. "Where the leanings of favour are just as changeable as the winds."

"Yeah, I remember."

She caught his eyes for a moment and thought she glimpsed a dark shadow stir behind the benign smile on his lips. But then he glanced away and there was no trace of any such troubled emotion when he spoke again, his voice light and teasing once more.

"Still, I wonder who's been slipping Schuester the testosterone supplements."

She raised an eyebrow, amusement playing at the edge of her mouth. "You suspect drug abuse?"

"Either that or the man's seriously not getting any."

Quinn laughed before she could help it, flashing him the first genuine smile she had given anyone in what felt like forever. "What the hell makes you think that?"

"It's a guy thing."

"Male PMS?"

"Perhaps," Jesse chuckled, meeting her gaze with a suggestive grin. "And to think, you nearly missed out on all this riveting new drama. Aren't you glad you came back?"

"Oh yeah," she grumbled sarcastically, taking a swig from her water bottle before dropping it back into the bag that sat at her feet. "Every damn day."

_/o/_

As Rachel walked through the backstage wings of the auditorium, she began to have doubts. She hated to admit it, but she couldn't _actually _remember if they had agreed to meet here or in the parking lot after dance practice. If she didn't find him soon, she would head back outside and double check. Of course, she wasn't about to admit that she'd got it wrong if that was the case, she would simply put it down to a miscommunication. One of these things that happen.

Wandering along with increasing irritation and no sign of her wayward boyfriend, Rachel sighed and stole a quick glance out onto the auditorium stage where boot camp was usually held. She didn't see Finn, but what she_ did_ see stopped her in her tracks just the same.

There were only two members left behind in the rehearsal space and they were standing close together at the dance bars, talking in low tones that didn't carry. He said something that made her laugh reluctantly and roll her eyes, a grin breaking out across his own face as the idle exchange continued. They seemed in no real rush to part from each other – indeed the body language between them seemed almost relaxed and comfortable, and the unexpected sight unnerved Rachel more than she would ever admit to.

She couldn't remember the two of them ever sparing anything more than passing word of strained civility for each other in the past, and now here they were acting as if they had suddenly found some kind of common ground to bond over. When the hell did _that _happen?

As she watched, she saw the former cheerleader give him a brief smile before moving to retrieve her jumper from the floor, zipping up the garment over her tank top and picking up her bag. Jesse straightened up from the railing and walked around to meet her, standing way too close for Rachel's comfort, even as she found herself straining to get a better view despite herself. She felt her heart clench without permission as she saw him reach out to tug up the collar of Quinn's pink hoody, his hand brushing over her shoulder as his lips moved in words she couldn't decipher. There was something that could almost pass for friendly affection in the small gesture, and it made Rachel's gut twist up painfully.

Caught by surprise and deeply confused by the response of her body, Rachel quickly backed away and turned to leave, determined to shake off such dangerous feelings before she could overly dwell on them.

_/o/_

The locker door swung open with a rusty squeak, making her pull a face even though the sound was barely audible over the crush of noise around her. She really wished they would bother to repair the damn hinges now and again, but then again maybe that was asking too much from a school that could barely manage to provide a regular supply of toilet paper. With a disgruntled huff, Rachel tossed her English notebook back into the metal shadows, too distracted to even file it away properly with the rest of her folders. Her fingers hovered over the spine of her Biology textbook, lacking the enthusiasm to remove it and unable to shake the parting words that still echoed around her head.

She didn't even feel him approach, effortlessly slipping through the hurried stream of students that swarmed through the corridor, looking up only when she felt the light touch of his hand skim over the small of her back. Surprised, she glanced around to find him studying her with those ever piercing eyes, a soft frown of concern creasing his brow.

"What was all that about?"

"What?" she mumbled evasively.

Jesse nodded his head in the direction of where Mercedes had just strode off through the milling press of bodies a few minutes ago, unprepared to let her avoid the question.

Rachel turned back to her locker with a stiff shrug. "Mercedes just didn't feel like celebrating our call back. It's not a big deal."

He said nothing for a moment though she could feel his gaze on her face, the calculating assessment in his silence. When he did speak up again there was a subdued note of tension in his voice that she couldn't quite place.

"Are you okay?"

She didn't know why the simple question broke the floodgates, why he had to be the one to ask her. Rachel took a deep breath that seemed to wash away her reservations, the words rushing out of her before she could censor them. "It's just…" A reluctant sigh escaped her lips as she leant back against the lockers, crossing her arms behind her and staring out into the anonymous bustle of activity that surrounded them. "I guess I've just felt us drifting apart recently. She's had this attitude lately…like I'm in her way or something." A frown crossed her face as she tried to explain herself, to somehow reason away the knot of apprehension that sat heavy in the pit of her stomach. "I don't know. I can't help feeling that this whole _Maria_ thing might just drive a wedge between us for good."

There was a thoughtful pause before he finally offered a response.

"Quite possibly."

Rachel gave him an indignant look which he calmly returned without a hint of contrition or apology. "Come on, Rach. You had to have seen this coming at some point. All that resentment was bound to rear its head eventually."

"Mercedes doesn't –"

"Of course she does," he interrupted dismissively, impatience riling his tone before he seemed to curb it back with some effort. "They all do – on some level or another. It's the natural order of things. You're all in competition with each other just as much as you are with the other teams."

Rachel shook her head, angry at the assumption in his tone. "We mean more to each other than that."

"When are you going to grow out of this childish naivety?" he demanded with a sigh, his expression somewhere between irritation and imploring. "All it will do is end up hurting you."

She threw him a heated glare, her words sullen and pointed. "Maybe I'm just not as quick to discount the people in my life as you are."

Jesse held her gaze equally stubbornly, a sharp intensity flickering through his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine. "Maybe you need to figure out the ones that really matter."

Rachel hesitated, unsure what to make of the veiled challenge in his tone or the fire of unease it sparked in her mind. Glancing away, she quickly brought her thoughts back to the main track of their conversation, as depressing as it was. Letting her head tilt back against the cool metal, she exhaled a tired breath, speaking so quietly she wasn't sure if he even heard her.

"I don't want to lose her over this."

"I know," he said softly, the abrupt change in his tone catching her off guard. There was something almost sympathetic in his gaze when she met his eyes again, a weariness that only came from hard-learned experience. "But it happens. It's the nature of the business and the world, and you just have to deal with it and move on."

Despite the bitter wisdom in such truth, Rachel just couldn't bring herself to accept it. She let out a deep sigh, frustrated with the whole situation. "I just don't know what her problem is."

"Yes you do." Rachel cast him a frown to which Jesse just shrugged in response. "Look at it from her point of view. You're the heart and soul of that club, Rachel. You're head and shoulders above them all and everyone knows it. But we both know it's been far from smooth sailing. You've paid more than your fair share of dues."

Rachel looked down uncomfortably. She well remembered the stories and the tears that she had shared with him during their sweetly doomed relationship all that time ago. All the bullying and isolation she had told him of, the glimpses of vulnerability she had foolishly entrusted to a comforting confidant – back before his own cruel streak had been revealed.

Jesse observed her silence and averted eyes with a dark gaze, firmly pushing down the echo of torn memories that pulled at his own mind. There was no hitch of emotion in his tone as he calmly carried on, in an almost clinical fashion.

"Mercedes has spent years living in your shadow, but for whatever reason – she put up with it. Maybe she figured that even though you had the advantage of raw talent, at least you were still an outcast in the group. But then that changed too. You somehow forged a place for yourself and people began treating you differently. Even I can see it. Maybe she feels like she has nothing left. Maybe she just sees you gaining in strength while she feels like she's falling behind in your wake, eclipsed in every aspect."

"I never meant to take anything away from her…"

"Be that as it may, you can't deny things have changed. Just look at you and Kurt. You guys are closer now than they ever were. Imagine how that feels to see."

Rachel winced but stiffened defensively. "So I should apologise for finally having friends now?"

"I didn't say that. I'm just stating the facts," he replied evenly, watching her with a shrewd perception that she could never seem to escape. "You always knew this was an inevitability, Rachel. You knew that sacrifices have to be made at the top. There's a fine line between friend and rival and you can't ever take it for granted."

A small, dry smile curved her lips. "Pick your alliances carefully, huh?"

Jesse shrugged and Rachel threw him an appraising look, quick and suspicious. "Maybe you should heed your own advice."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," she said curtly. Without meeting his eyes, she roughly yanked out her textbook and slammed the locker door shut. Turning on her heel, she marched away without another word, disappearing into the crowds once more.

_/o/_

Pink streamers. _Pink streamers._

Jesse grimaced and mentally counted to ten. That didn't work so he tried counting to twenty. What was this, a fucking _sweet-sixteen_ party? Finally managing to wrench his eyes away from the offending and abrasively tacky decorations, he shook his head and walked on through the auditorium, picking his way around the milling members of New Directions and over towards the judge's seats.

The so-called _Maria-off_ had been the talk of the club all day. '_Clash of the titans'_ was one remark he had heard so far, to which Jesse had only smiled and rolled his eyes. These guys had no idea what a truly epic clash looked like. But as he took his time descending the steps and crossing through the darkened rows, he had to admit that the atmosphere of competition and anticipation was something he could never keep away from. It was everything he lived for, everything that was inextricably bound up with a mutual addiction that would define him for the rest of his life.

Even so, this entire affair was merely an exercise in futility to his mind, a pointless indulgence, but he had been willing to go along with it on this occasion. He would never deny Rachel a chance to perform and he had no doubt that she would steal the show as always. It was what she did best.

His eyes automatically found their way over to her, searching out her face before narrowing slightly at the sight of the boy who stood close at her side, drawing her attention with an earnest expression as they exchanged private words in the low light. Jesse felt the familiar stab of temper and frustration and quickly clenched his jaw, caging the unconstructive emotions away for now. As much as he hated to witness any kind of intimate moment between them, he couldn't stop his gaze from dwelling upon the couple in twisted curiosity, watching the expression on Rachel's face as she nodded absently in response to her boyfriend's words. Whatever it was Finn was saying, it didn't seem to be overly convincing or assuring his girlfriend.

Just then, her eyes moved over Finn's shoulder and caught his. Jesse met her gaze steadily for the split moment of contact before Rachel quickly broke away. She suddenly pulled Finn into a long and tight hug, burying herself into his embrace with an almost possessive force as she felt Jesse's eyes linger on them. If she had dared to look his way again, she might have been surprised by his reaction. A small smirk passed over Jesse's face as he observed the display of affection, hollow and strained but still undeniably amused.

Quinn looked up and exchanged a small nod of acknowledgment as she saw him finally move to claim to his seat. She watched him settle down at the make-shift table and turn his attention to the notebooks that lay there, an elegant black fountain pen glinting softly under the glow of the lamplight as he leaned forward over the papers. She smiled to herself, fully suspecting he had absolutely no intention of making any notes. Quinn had no uncertainty that the outcome of this call back was already cast firmly in his mind, but he could never seem to resist putting on a performance all the same. The art of professional showmanship was simply part of his persona, second nature to him in the same way it was to Rachel.

Following her train of thought, Quinn turned her gaze back out into the auditorium with fresh consideration. She had observed the fleeting looks exchanged between the ex's with increasing interest over the last few days, and she also hadn't failed to notice the blatant way Rachel clung closer to Finn whenever Jesse's attention strayed in their direction. However, the more curious development was the number of times she had caught the small brunette's gaze flickering between herself and Jesse, as if plagued by some unknown confusion she wasn't wholly aware of. Frowning gently, Quinn sunk back in her velvet seat and tried to get a handle on the changing dynamics of power that were unfolding.

_/o/_

"Senior Class President? Really?"

Rachel looked up at the sound of his voice to find him loitering in the doorway of the empty classroom, one shoulder leaning against the doorjamb and a sceptical tilt to his mouth. She was past being surprised at his unannounced appearances and endless comments on her personal life by now, but that didn't mean she had to tolerate his intrusions politely. His eyes were dark and hard as they locked on her face but Rachel only brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and returned to gathering up the last of her books.

"What, you don't think I can do it?" she demanded coolly.

Jesse smiled but it was without much amusement. "I think you have no idea what you have let yourself in for. Political campaigning is dirty work. Fair play and friendships don't come into it, not if you really want to win." He raised an eyebrow in doubt. "Are you really prepared for that? Because your opponents will be prepared to do anything – _use _anything to get the advantage."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I suppose you're speaking with the authority of experience again?" she remarked drolly.

"I had the good sense to keep clear actually."

Rachel fixed him with a lofty glare. "Is that because you're incapable of putting anyone else's interests above your own?"

A smirk tugged the corners of his mouth. "I never indulge in anything that's a waste of my time."

She scoffed under her breath. "Everything serves a purpose," she muttered bitterly.

Jesse watched her for a long moment, both silently reading between the lines of their unspoken dialogue. "I bet Kurt is less than thrilled about it," he said at last.

Rachel tensed but swiftly covered it, pushing the unpleasant confrontation from her mind as best she could. "You could say that."

"Boy, you're really on a roll with alienating your friends this week."

She shot him a scowl even as she tried to brush off his mockingly honest assessment. "Kurt…" Rachel trailed off, struggling to find the right words. Shaking her head, she started again with fresh conviction. "Kurt doesn't think I'm running for the right reasons. He thinks he's the only one who can make a positive difference at this school. But what if he's wrong?" She lifted her shoulders defensively. "Why can't I try and change the world for the better too? He'll come to see that in the end, he'll come around…" Rachel gave a decisive nod, desperately trying to make herself believe her own words.

Kurt would understand. Surely? Eventually.

Jesse felt something pinch painfully inside his chest. Despite her attempts to hide it, it was clear she was still cut up over the recent fall out, especially as it had come in the middle of such a stressful week for the musical. Jesse had seen how much her relationship with Kurt had meant to Rachel, and the loss of her best friend was an additional heartache that she really didn't need right now. Not with everything else that was going on.

"Every victory comes at a price," he said quietly.

Rachel looked up, those warm bewitching eyes meeting his in a silent exchange of understanding that neither could fully interpret.

Lowering her gaze away once more, she breathed deeply and traced a wandering finger along the grain of the desk under her hand, as if drawing a tenuous sense of comfort out of the old wood. "You don't think I can beat him?" she challenged finally.

"I think you can beat him hands down if you put your mind to it," he replied without hesitation. A small smile crossed his lips as he cocked his head in thought. "But if you ask me, Britt is your big competition."

She tossed him an incredulous expression, like she couldn't decide if he was making fun of her or not. Jesse merely shrugged.

"She's popular," he offered by way of succinct explanation. "That's what seems to escape you guys. Elections are not about who deserves to win the most, it's all about who the people _want_. People will vote for the personality they can most relate to, whether it is in their interests or not. Let's face it – she's slept with half the school, is an a-typical blonde, perky cheerleader who guys fancy and girls want to be like. She may not be the sharpest blade in the box, but since when does that count in public politics?"

Not to mention, the girl knew how to throw one hell of a pep rally. Jesse smirked to himself as he allowed himself to reflect back on that particular spectacle. With the combined assets of _girl power_ in kinky outfits, she was covering her bases pretty well. Not a lot of guys in the school would object to a repeat performance of _that_. It was quite an act to follow. He had to give the cheerleader some credit – she'd picked a damn good strategy. The girls would be the swing vote at this school.

Rachel was giving him a deeply sceptical look and Jesse sighed, running a hand through his hair distractedly.

"Look, you're more than capable of handling yourself, Rachel. But if you really want to make a difference in the world, you do it by following your true passions." He caught her eyes and held her gaze across the room in an effort to drive his point home. "Politics is a whole other arena. Hard graft and determination won't get you there alone. There is nothing more fickle than a voter's allegiance."

"I can think of a few things," she muttered, glancing away from him and crossing her arms over her chest.

Jesse heard the reprimand in her tone but let it pass. "Seriously, Rachel – why are you splitting your dedication at a time like this? You already have glee club, Nationals and the musical to focus on, not to mention graduation and college applications."

"I need the credits," she snapped in frustration. "You said it yourself – NYADA only accepts the very best and even then it's nearly impossible to get a place. They won't look twice at my application if I can't provide the extra curricular credits to back it up."

Jesse frowned softly. "Okay," he said slowly, "but wasn't that the whole point of this _West Side Story_ production? Your big showcase of talent away from choir competition?"

Rachel flinched and looked down, almost seeming to close up on herself, her voice dropping to a reluctant mutter. "Yeah, it was. But… but I'm not going to get the part."

Jesse was _sure_ he'd misheard this time. "What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, voice low and tense with something like barely supressed anger.

She nearly seemed to recoil away from the harsh words, before stubbornly rallying herself. Lifting her head, she set her expression and looked him in the eye with such certainty that it unnerved him down to the core.

"She was _better_ than me, Jesse. Mercedes _owned_ that song, that stage, that audition and I couldn't even touch her. Simple as that."

Two defiant stares battled across the room in the beat of silence that followed. Incredulity fought against pounding waves of panicked fury. Temper won out.

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" Jesse strode towards her before he was even aware of the action, dark eyes burning and his voice rising until he was almost shouting. "_Better?_ How can you even think that? Where the hell is all this self doubt and insecurity coming from all of a sudden? This isn't the Rachel Berry I know; this isn't the girl I met two years ago – the girl who wouldn't let anyone talk her out of what she wanted or stop her from getting it. This isn't _you." _He gestured towards her accusingly, his tone raw with frustration. His mouth twisted bitterly, undeterred by the heated shock and anger in her glare. She opened her mouth, but he wasn't finished. "What the hell happened to you? Since when were you content to allow yourself to be dependant on anyone else for your self esteem? This is three years of mediocre and jealous peers talking – grinding you down and making you doubt yourself. Lowering yourself to Finn's level because it's safe and comfortable. You were never _weak_, Rachel. I never thought you'd let them get to you like this."

"Like _what?_" she spat back, dangerous fire flashing in her eyes as she held her ground in the explosive confrontation.

"_This!"_ he retorted hotly. "_Them._ Your so-called friends; your pathetically inferior boyfriend. You're so scared of what they think, of losing a bunch of insignificant connections, that you're doubting everything that makes you who you are. You're fucking _amazing_, Rachel." He saw her falter slightly at the sheer conviction in his words and quickly worked to seize his advantage, determined to make her see sense even if she hated him for it. "No one wants this or works harder for it than you. And if you let them beat that out of you, then you're not half the girl I thought you were."

"How can you say that, Jesse?" she demanded furiously, tears prickling the back of her eyes which she ruthlessly forced away. "You were _there_ – you saw her!"

"Yeah, I was," he agreed forcefully. "And I was the only one there with anything close to the kind of experience needed to pass a credible judgement. I've said it before and I'll say it again – Mercedes is a damn good singer. But she's not a star." His voice lowered as his gaze locked into hers, his stormy eyes softening indefinably though losing none of their passion. "Not like you could be. Yeah, she may want it – but she's not prepared to work for it. She expects recognition to follow talent, but we both know it doesn't work that way. Most of the time talent goes unrewarded and unsung and you have to get out there and fight for your right to be heard."

Rachel shook her head, still objecting though with slightly less assertion than previously as she struggled to reconcile her growing confusion into a coherent argument. "If Kurt can be happy for Blaine and admit when he's faced with someone better suited to a role – why shouldn't I? What's so terrible about giving credit where it's due?"

"It's not okay when you're selling yourself short in order to please others," he returned firmly. "How the hell can you think you don't deserve the role?"

When Rachel couldn't summon an immediate reply, he pushed on. "How many times did you rehearse that number? How many hours a week do you spend practicing your dancing, vocals and projection? How many times did you listen to that song until you could sing it backwards?" She met his eyes stubbornly but didn't answer him. Jesse gave a tight smile. "_That's_ the difference."

Finally, he backed off in the uneasy quiet, giving her one last look as he turned to leave.

"You need to snap out of this bullshit, Rachel, and get your head in the game."

"And what game would that be?" she called out sarcastically.

He didn't bother to reply, walking out the classroom instead and leaving Rachel scowling after him, a deeply unsettled apprehension slowly stirring in the back of her mind.

_/o/_

Jesse frowned as he rubbed a series of small concentric circles into his temples, his head nestled firmly between his hands as he fought off a migraine of annoyance. He'd been listening to this endless discussion for the better part of an hour. Were these people for real? Yes, fine, Mercedes had been _good,_ but as he had so forcefully reminded the girl herself the other day – her audition just didn't even compare to Rachel's. End of.

He had thin patience at the best of times, but this ridiculous debate was on the verge of doing his head in completely. They had been summoned into Emma's office to finalise the cast and go over the choices for Maria one last time. Yet there was no choice in his mind, no discussion, no debate. It was so painfully, glaring obvious, and it was exhausting just to sit and listen to these poor excuses for directors talk themselves in circles. How the hell did these guys ever manage to get anything _done?_ He sighed impatiently for what felt like the tenth time this hour, the sound muffled by his hands. All the cast had been fixed no problem, they were just sticking on this one role and for the life of him, Jesse couldn't understand their deliberation. This was the problem with co-directing – you had to _consult._ And it was a massive time waster.

"If you guys are really this bent out of shape over the decision, why don't you just double cast the role?"

He'd meant it as a joke, a throw away comment mumbled in irritation and pure frustration. He didn't expect them to take his sarcastic suggestion to heart; he didn't think they would take it _seriously_.

Jesse wasn't big on compromise as a rule, but the others immediately latched onto the idea with a naïve enthusiasm that defied belief. As far as they were concerned it was a convenient _out_, a happy solution that would please all players involved. Nice and _fair_.

_Christ._

Despite being less than happy with the turn of events they had settled on against his objections, Jesse simply didn't have the energy to object anymore right now. The fact remained that Rachel _was_ Maria. She was born to be a leading performer and it was her role through and through. The unwillingness to disappoint and upset the balance of their precious group was so naïve, it was laughable. You could never make everyone happy, so why bother to try? It was frankly galling that they thought anyone could share Rachel's stage, that Mercedes was by any means somehow _better _than Rachel.

Shaking his head, he quietly despaired and was deeply grateful when the fruitless meeting was finally called to a close. He had never needed a shot of coffee more in his life.

_/o/_

The intrusion to his solitude was unusual but not wholly unexpected.

He felt her presence lingering in the emptying choir room as the rehearsal ended for the day, all required participants moving on to the mandatory boot camp, all except one. She made no sound to announce herself but her gaze was sharp and unwavering on the top of his head and thus Jesse was entirely unsurprised when he glanced up to see Quinn in front of him, slender arms crossed elegantly over a pastel yellow and white sundress, head cocked slightly to the side as she regarded him with a stony expression.

They contemplated each other in silence for a long moment, neither underestimating the other. Finally, Quinn broke the unspoken standoff.

"You're using me to make Rachel jealous," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

Jesse lowered his eyes back to his notes, completely nonplussed by the accusation. "And?"

She couldn't help but smile. "God, you really are a piece of work."

"I never claimed to be virtuous," he said calmly, but the glimmer of amusement in his voice was unmistakable. "Like you said yourself, I'm just as selfish as anyone else."

"Just out of curiosity, do you ever do _anything _without an ulterior motive?"

Jesse shrugged. "There's a first time for everything I suppose."

Quinn rolled her eyes, though the tug of her lips remained. "You're an asshole."

"I don't know what you're pissed about," he went on conversationally. "This could work to our mutual benefit."

She studied him closely, a familiar glint of anticipation shining in her eyes. Dubious curiosity got the better of her. "What's in it for me exactly?" she asked at last.

Jesse closed the notepad over and tossed it aside onto the chair next to him as he moved to stand up, rattling off the list as idly as if it were a business agenda. "You get to get under Rachel's skin," he offered with a knowing smirk. "Drive a wedge between her and Finn and get even with your gormless ex for humiliating you last year. Plus you get to be the envy of all your peers by spending time with me and sending this school's rumour mill into overdrive, all without barely lifting a finger."

Quinn laughed. "If your ego got any bigger, it wouldn't fit in this room."

Jesse gave a noncommittal shrug, one that subtly defied the weight of his words. "Sometimes you have to fight dirty to get what's yours."

The former head Cheerio was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful and calculating as she considered the proposal on the table. She gave a small nod of approval, her shrewd green gaze pinned on his dark, guarded one as they assessed each other all over again. "Impressive plan," she said carefully, never glancing away as she stepped slowly towards him. "It's just missing one thing…"

Jesse kept his eyes on her as she drew closer, his heart hitching in his chest in silent warning, the words slipping past his lips unbidden as he cocked a teasing eyebrow. "What's that?"

He felt the sweet warmth of her breath as it feathered across his skin, glimpsed the lure of recklessness in the pool of her eyes before they lowered along with his, following blindly into the command of touch. She leaned into his mouth with a soft whisper, the single word sending a cool flutter aching through his ribcage.

_"Ambition."_

Forcing his eyes open, Jesse drew back an inch, swallowing hard as he brought a finger up to graze her lips. "This isn't a good idea," he murmured, the pitch of his voice deep and ragged with the traitorous surge of adrenaline that clamoured up through his body.

"Of course it isn't." He felt a faint smile curve her lips as she breathed the stolen line against his skin. "But that's why we do it."

Jesse shivered at the echo of words and let his hand gently drop away from her mouth.

"Quinn…"

It was a restraint, but neither seemed prepared to take heed.

"Trust me," she assured silkily, her own fingers tracing the buttons of his shirt. "If you really want to provoke a response – you're going to have to up the stakes."

His hand found its way to her waist, settling against the warm curve of her hip even as he spoke. "You don't want to play this game with me," he warned in a low voice, his gaze sharp and grip hard.

She met his face unflinchingly, the dare of provocation reflected in her cool, sparkling eyes. "Try me."

Jesse tightened his grip, yanking her hard against him as the last inch of air vanished between them, captured along with her mouth in a rough and demanding kiss. She tasted so different from Rachel. He felt her bold fingers sliding up to snake into his hair as he deepened the kiss without permission, a soft moan humming in her throat as his hands dug into the small of her back, clenching into fists around the warm fabric of her sundress. Her body was pressed tight against him, her scent filling his lungs and taste consuming his mind with a desperate urge to _forget. _Just for one blissfully blank moment.

As they finally pulled apart, both breathing heavily, Quinn met his eyes with a small, smug smile.

"I'll take that as a _yes_, shall I?"

Jesse leaned into her lips with a smirk, only just brushing them with his response. "You're late for practice."

She grinned, trailing her hand lightly down his chest as they moved to release each other from the force of their embrace. Without another word, she turned and headed out of the choir room.

_/o/_

Rachel let her eyes drift over the sheet of paper until they reached the top and the black printed words that she knew were waiting for her. She felt a guilty twinge as she remembered how they had come to be there, and all that had been lost along the way. And yet, seeing it all up there – real and finally confirmed in official black and white – she couldn't help the elation that swelled in her chest or the smile that broke across her lips. Her first leading role.

Rachel vowed then and there that it would only be the first of many.

She nearly didn't hear the chirp of her cell phone, so engrossed was she in the simple, white bulletin. She half wondered if she could take it home and put it into her scrapbook, after everyone had already seen it of course.

She hesitated when she saw who it was from and yet felt a tentative smile curve her lips as she cast her gaze over the words that followed.

_It was a foregone conclusion, but congratulations nonetheless._

**~o~**

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><p><strong>AN <strong>I was aiming to have this up before _'Pot O' Gold'_ aired, but what with updating _'Bad Romance'_, I just didn't manage it. But better late than never I suppose. I stupidly stayed up to some unholy hour this morning to post this (seems to be a running theme with me, lol!) so apologies if it is full of silly errors! I will come back to proof read more thoroughly when it isn't nearly 6 in the morning! I can't believe I have work in a few hours *headdesk* Idiot.

Oh well, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed. As ever, I live for feedback! Thanks to everyone who is following/reviewed this fic so far. It's really appreciated :) Until next time!


	4. Fractures

Greetings. One reviewer asked in the last chapter for further clarification of Jesse's role back in McKinley. So just to confirm the status of things, Jesse is still acting as a hired consultant for ND. Now, without further ado, here's the next episode.

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><p><strong>Getting It Right - Fractures<strong>

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><p>First days were always rough.<p>

It was hard not to get swept along in the tide of students that surged through the labyrinth of strange new corridors in the morning rush hour, and Rory found himself side-stepping one student only to accidently knock into another. Uttering a stream of unheard apologies, he ducked into another hallway and tried to get his bearings, glancing down again at the class schedule that had been thrust unceremoniously into his hands by a harassed young woman in the school office he had just vacated. Squinting to try and read the sign on the nearest door, he resisted the urge to sigh as he felt this attempt at orientation slipping further into dismal failure. Maybe he should have asked Britt to accompany him to get his registration papers after all – but then that might have shattered the illusion just a little bit.

The ruckus of brash, foreign accents that flew about him felt a little disorienting, and a sudden swell of homesickness washed over him. Everything was so much bigger and louder over here… it would take a bit of getting used to. His fingers drifted longingly towards the phone in his pocket, aching for the comfort of a familiar voice, but then he caught himself and quickly quelled the impulse. Setting his jaw, he raised his head and set off again in search of his first lesson.

Edging his way into the crowd of bodies once more, he twisted about in vain for some hint of useful signage, before stumbling back a step as another stray shoulder bumped into his.

"Oh, excuse me," he mumbled automatically.

"Excuse _you_."

Looking up in surprise at the frosty retort, he glimpsed a flick of short blonde hair as the girl in question promptly returned to ignoring his existence, pushing past him and striding away without a backward glance. Stunned by her rude reaction, he turned around and watched her cut a path through the crowd with a direction of purpose that he couldn't help but envy. Barely aware of the passing students who buffered his temporarily inert body in the middle of the hallway, he found himself wondering who she was and just what status she held in this school to move with such authority and confidence. Or maybe, she simply didn't care.

It was then Rory caught sight of the boy standing at the doors just up ahead, slouched back with an unhurried ease that seemed out of place in the bustling corridor and yet utterly natural at the same time. There was an assurance in the student's stance that made him seem older than his peers somehow, an air of experience that extended beyond his expensive fashion style and dark, unapologetic eyes. Arms crossed expectantly over his chest as if he were waiting for her, he seemed to have observed the fleetingly hostile exchange with an amused expression, only the corners of his mouth giving him away. As Rory watched, the girl reached their silent onlooker and brushed by him, turning the corner into a connecting hallway. Without a word or look exchanged between them that he could see, the boy sent one last faint, _almost-sympathetic-if-you-squinted _smile in his direction, before pushing off the wall and following after her.

Rory's gaze followed the strangers curiously for a moment as they disappeared from view. Shaking his head, he sighed under his breath. Didn't matter where in the world you were, the new kid was always the pariah.

However this theory was debunked barely a moment later when he was practically accosted by a bubbling whirlwind of colourful energy, one that talked so fast he struggled to separate out the words.

"Vote Rachel Berry!" she chirped brightly, pushing a button and leaflet into his hands before he could react to her sudden appearance with anything other than dumb surprise. The petite brunette seemed to cast her gaze over him at lightening speed, eyeing him appraisingly. She apparently had little concept of personal space and Rory found himself leaning back slightly as she chatted away cheerily.

"You're new, huh?" she declared, looking positively thrilled at the concept. "Welcome to McKinley!"

"Uh, thanks," he stuttered, thrown off by the contrast in attitudes he had experienced in less than a few minutes. He smiled back, unable not to be affected by her enthusiasm. It was nice to know there was someone at this school capable of being friendly, no matter how politically motivated the gesture may be. He pulled up the papers that were still gripped in his other hand, figuring he might as well seize to opportunity. "Um, actually, do you know where classroom 12A is?"

"Oh that's great," she interrupted distractedly, her eyes darting over his shoulder and lighting up happily, clearly not taking in a word he had said. "Will you excuse me?"

Rory turned around just in time to see her bound up and grab the arm of a tall gangly boy who looked vaguely familiar. However before he could place the kid's face, both were lost in the crush a moment later, the small brunette babbling away as she pulled the weary looking boy down the hallway to corner some more students on her campaign rally.

Shrugging his shoulders, he turned back and walked on. Yet he had barely taken half a dozen steps before he was confronted by another smiling face and propaganda pin, the surprise almost causing him to back into a locker. This boy was just as eager and unrelentingly optimistic as his rival, with an almost blinding sense of fashion, and once again Rory struggled to get a word in edgeways. Did everyone in this school speak in monologues?

"I hope I can count on your vote," the presidential hopeful announced finally, flashing a dazzling smile before his attention was suddenly diverted by the sight of someone behind them. "Oh, Blaine, wait up!"

He blinked as the boy called out over the heads of the crowd, sparing him only a quick nod of acknowledgment before dashing off in blur of sparkles and sheen. Bloody hell, he was getting a crick in his neck from the speed these kids moved at. Left standing there rather bemused, Rory frowned down at the two campaign pins in his hand. It seemed a bit too early to be claiming allegiances and so he stuck them both into his pocket.

Looking up again, he smiled in relief as he finally saw a familiar face. Pulling on his bag strap and adjusting his specially purchased hat to a suitably jaunty angle, one befitting of a mythical mischief maker, he put all thoughts of actually locating his class to one side and made his way over to her side.

"Top of the morning, Brittany."

She grinned and turned around, her eyes sparkling as she twirled the pen top between her fingers the way a wood nymph would play with a flower. "Okay, first of all, you look magical and amazing," she breathed in awe before fixing him with a serious look of concern. "But I don't understand what you're saying. So if you want to make it in this land, you really need to speak English."

Rory smiled in gentle amusement. She was possibly the sweetest, not to mention _hottest, _girl he'd ever met in his life. And that was one hell of a combination. So if it took pretending to be a magical creature of Irish folklore to impress her, he was more than willing to indulge the stereotype.

After all, what was the worst that could happen?

_/o/_

"The point is right now we shouldn't be turning on each other."

That made him raise a subtle eyebrow, pausing for a second to shake his head incredulously before returning his attention back to the sketch he was currently doodling on the bottom of his notepad. _This _was their idea of a team at war? A few passing shots of blame and a little name-calling? Please, this was child's play. When someone had a grudge with you in VA, they'd try and back over you in the parking lot, or at least have the ambition to hack into your school records. These kids really had no imagination.

Tuning out the inane chatter as best he could, Jesse rode out his boredom with a professional silence. He had learned it was quickest to simply let them get their whining out the way first before attempting to impart any constructive insight to how they should actually be spending this time. Any interruption would only drag it all out longer. It never ceased to amaze him how the hell New Directions had ever managed to win _any_ competitions at all when their so-called practices consisted more of long-winded speeches and petty sniping than any form of physical or vocal training, not to mention any hint of forward planning. This wasn't a fucking town meeting – this was _supposed_ to be an established team that hoped to somehow compete and win at National level. He rolled his eyes, the frustrated gesture hidden behind the fall of his curls. They really took _coasting_, to a whole new definition.

It took him a moment to realise the Dalton kid had stood up and added his voice to the debate.

"I agree. No show choir is just one person –"

"Depends on the one," Jesse murmured. He glimpsed Schuester send him an exasperated look and reluctantly waved his hand in submission, dropping the point. He sighed. Their choir room, their rules, and god forbid anyone rocked their precious boat.

Blaine was soon speaking again and Jesse noticed to his amusement that Finn appeared less than happy about it.

"Dude, I know you're a big deal at Dalton or whatever," the jock gibed sarcastically, "but we don't wear blazers here so have a seat, I'm trying to give a pep talk."

Jesse smiled to himself, lowering his gaze once more with a chuckle. It was interesting to see Finn vent his inferiority complex on someone else for a change, trying so desperately to cling onto his top position within the group. Envy really brought out the worst of Finn's already overindulged childish behaviour. However it was still entertaining to watch him scowl and sulk every time their newest member opened his mouth, fumbling to try and re-exert his pitiful stance of authority over the team.

And he should be worried. Blaine may be nowhere near Jesse's level, but he was still undoubtedly far superior to Finn – exceeding him in all terms of talent, personality and the charisma of leadership. The kid definitely had something about him. And while Jesse could concede and respect that, he knew from first hand experience that Finn had never been capable of handling the threat of competition with any dignity or skill. A thin smile crossed his lips as his thoughts stirred forth memories of the days when he had been in this club as a member rather than a consultant, and the déjà vu was uncanny. Finn's brooding jealousy really was all too familiar broken record.

Truth be told, Jesse wished it could still be him – that he was still in a position to compete so openly and claim the spotlight that was rightfully his. It was a sacrifice he took willingly, but some days were so much harder than others. Jesse _hated _being on the sidelines, painfully resented curbing his competitive instincts, and he missed the exhilaration and pure freedom of performing so much it often kept him awake at night. Consultancy was _not_ his chosen vocation – he belonged on the stage, not in the wings – but it was a necessity right now and there were higher stakes at play this time than the next starring solo. Not to mention, it was all a very valuable creative experience to have in your armoury.

And yet as much as he enjoyed seeing Hudson displaying his immature ego for all to see – the fact remained that if Jesse had to listen to another one of the jock's woefully pathetic _'pep talks'_, he might just have to walk out in front of a bus. He sighed. If only some people would see such behaviour for what it was, he thought irritably as Finn sat back down only for Rachel to bury her head in his shoulder, clinging to him despondently while mumbling something about changing her name to _Maria_ as she despaired at the fresh peril of her musical.

A frown passed over his face as he turned his thoughts in a similar direction. This campaign vendetta was proving to be a nuisance he could do without. As far as Jesse was concerned, politics had no place interfering in the arts – the arts were there to hold a mirror up to politics, to explore the human condition, and that was a right that couldn't be broken. Sure, lack of funding might be a problem but it was hardly the disaster they were all envisaging, there were always ways around it. They may not have Carmel's enviable budget at their disposal but they were by no means without options.

There was a familiar clatter of feet and chairs around him as the group finally split up, armed with some optimistic plans about canvassing the neighbourhood for ad revenue. Jesse took his time gathering up his stuff, waiting for Schuester to finish talking to the kids before stepping up to run over the week's schedule with him. While it was well known that Jesse did not see eye to eye with the teacher on the way he ran the club, with a great deal of restraint and skilful manoeuvring on his part, the two of them were gradually managing to work out a middle ground. A grudging compromise that took into account a long term game plan this time around.

A touch on his shoulder distracted him however, a small but deliberate caress of fingers that made him still and the corners of his lips quirk knowingly. Cool fingertips skimmed ever so lightly up his neck, lingering just long enough to ensure she had his attention, before he heard the scrape of a chair as someone stood up behind him. Tilting his head an inch he took in the elegant curves of her figure as she stepped down, her hand trailing lazily along his arm as she drifted past him, her gaze flickering in his direction with an almost invisible smile.

Across the room, a pair of hazel eyes quickly tore themselves away from the silent exchange, hating herself for watching even as she pretended not to.

_/o/_

She knew he would follow her.

Quinn smiled but didn't look back as they all filtered noisily out of the choir room when the meeting was called to an end, aware only that he was close enough to be felt but not enough to be overtly conspicuous. Not yet. He caught up to her in the next corridor, pressing close behind her within the shadow of a doorframe, and she shivered as she felt his knuckles glide down her back.

"That was _mean_," he reprimanded teasingly, his voice hot and soft in her ear.

She arched a perfectly pencilled eyebrow, a sly glint in her eyes even though she didn't turn to face him. "Isn't that the point?"

Jesse smirked, letting his hand wander over her waist with a light squeeze before disappearing once more, melting back into the crowded hallway like a ghost. Quinn looked after him with an expression of reluctant admiration as she contemplated the needling burn in the pit of her stomach that he had managed to stoke in barely half a minute of contact. Damn, that boy had _skills._ She cocked a thoughtful eyebrow, a small smile on her lips. This could prove to be very interesting indeed.

_/o/_

The door to the restrooms swung back into place behind her as Rachel re-emerged into the bustling restaurant. She paused for a moment, letting her gaze sweep over the room in absent contemplation, tucking the waves of her hair back behind her ear. It was busier than she had expected for a week night, but _Breadstix_ had always been the most popular local haunt. It was one of the few quality bistros in the neighbourhood, conveniently close by and the prices were reasonable enough to enjoy a dinner out without having to make the trip into the city hub.

She was just about to turn and head back to her seat when her eyes fell on something that made her start in place. Or rather, someone.

She squinted uncertainly for a moment, due to the fact that she could only glimpse his profile from across the room, yet there was no mistaking that particular stance of quiet arrogance that he embodied so easily. He was standing at the counter, leaning over his elbows with a mildly irritated expression of boredom on his angled features – one that usually meant he was being made to wait for something. He was dressed in his usual dark dress code, his black denim jacket tight across his hunched shoulders, the stillness of his figure standing in stark contract to the hum of activity that surrounded them.

Rachel hesitated and cast a quick glance back over to her table, but her dads were in deep conversation and probably wouldn't miss her absence for a few more minutes. Looking over, she chewed her lip as she debated with herself, arguing her better judgement into submission with the same stubbornness she used on her teammates. She was just being friendly, sociable. There was no harm in just saying hello after all. She was offering the olive branch, being the bigger person. At least, that was what she told herself as she straightened up and made her way over to him.

She could think of half a dozen snide comments to greet him with, any attempt to make a bid for the upper hand, but as she approached his side of the restaurant she reluctantly put them all aside. She was tired of always being on the defensive. Instead, she drew a deep breath and offered only a tentative smile as she came to stand next to him.

"Hi."

He looked round. If he was startled at all by her appearance, he didn't show it. If anything, he appeared almost unsure what to make of the conciliatory pitch of her voice. There was a slight crease to his guarded eyes, as if decoding the tone of her greeting, his gaze all the more heavy in the beat of silence he took to answer her.

"Hi," he said at last.

Rachel fidgeted for a second before catching herself and forcing herself to be still. She longed to interrogate him on Quinn, but somehow managed to restrain herself. It shouldn't matter to her anyway she told herself sternly, and she was not about to give him the impression that she spared any thoughts whatsoever about the state of his personal life.

Grasping for a safe subject, she gestured vaguely over the counter they were currently standing beside.

"Picking up some takeout?" She mentally grimaced at the embarrassment of stating the obvious, but he gave a wry smile in response.

"Yeah." He shrugged carelessly. "Forgot to do the whole food shopping thing, so it seemed like a valid alternative."

"Oh sure, like you ever actually _cook_," she teased, a glimmer of their old sparring banter resurfacing between them, much to her relief.

Jesse quirked a playful eyebrow. "I have many hidden talents."

She scoffed but then faltered as she saw his smile fade all too quickly, a strain of tension returning to his features. "And what about you?" He glanced away across the counter once more, his tone hardening distinctly with a bitterness that echoed the shadow of his lips. "Date night?"

She frowned, feeling her defensiveness stirring again. Jesse's moods were so damn mercurial these days that she often struggled to keep up. Why could he never just say what he was thinking outright? Why did they always have to talk in layers of code? Maybe it was a guy thing. And yet, she never had this problem with Finn.

"Family dinner," she said after a moment.

Jesse turned his head to where she gestured, quickly picking out the familiar figures of her dads across the restaurant. "Oh," he murmured under his breath. Rachel watched curiously as the edge of hostility retreated from his eyes, softening his expression into something almost like weariness, though he still didn't quite meet her gaze. She wondered if that was meant to count as an apology.

Lifting her head, Rachel swallowed down her reservations and made a concerted effort. They hadn't spoken properly since he chewed her out over the auditions after all, and she didn't like it. "Yeah," she offered a little awkwardly. "I think they're trying to cheer me up."

He finally met her eyes again and she gave a half shrug in explanation, making no attempt to hide the abject disappointment in her voice. "Since it looks like the musical is going under and the world will never get the chance to see my inspiring interpretation of _Maria_."

Jesse smiled. "That won't happen."

"What makes you so sure?" she retorted, pouting glumly.

"Because you're _you_," he replied easily, his eyes warm with amusement. "And if the very stages of Broadway collapsed, you would just find an even bigger platform to shine on."

Rachel felt a heat creep up her neck as she stared at him, caught at an uncharacteristic loss for words, which only made Jesse smirk more. _Why _did she only ever lose her voice around him? Quickly looking away, she turned her gaze out into the restaurant once more, searching for a change of topic to spare her from having to think up a response. It was strange but as much as Rachel lived and thrived on praise and accolades, it was only ever Jesse's cuttingly honest and often backhanded compliments that left her speechless, that made her feel somehow humbled. Maybe because she knew just how rarely his approval was bestowed.

Thankfully, her wish for a subject of avoidance was answered as her eyes fell upon another table not far away from them.

"Is that Britt and Santana?" she muttered to no-one in particular, tilting her head in curiosity.

"Looks like it."

Jesse turned his gaze in the same direction, taking in the scene with a needle sharp perception that lasted all of half a second. Rachel was fidgeting again, grasping for a pretext to make her excuses.

"Maybe I'll just go and say hi –"

"I wouldn't if I were you."

Rachel frowned at the blunt comment, throwing an irritable glare at him, but Jesse merely cast his eyes over the menu he had pulled into his hands, unconcerned. He spoke without looking up.

"They won't thank you for the interruption."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

Finally meeting her face again, Jesse studied her with an almost sceptical expression for a moment before flicking his eyes pointedly back at the cheerleaders' table. Confused, Rachel followed his gaze back to Brittany and Santana, not sure just what he was getting at. But then her eyes widened an inch as she saw the girls reach across the table and link hands shyly, the intimacy in their expressions impossible to mistake. There was a tenderness in the way they looked at each other that Rachel had never witnessed before, especially in the Latina. Santana almost seemed to glow in the happiness such a simple touch elicited. The realisation clicked into place so abruptly that she felt more than mildly foolish _"Oh," _she murmured quietly.

Jesse observed her reaction with an amused smile. "What, you didn't know?"

"Well, sure, I knew there was _something_ between them," Rachel stuttered, embarrassed. "But I didn't think it was serious. I didn't know they were _together_, together."

He grinned, shaking his head slightly. Her complete obliviousness to anything outside of her own drama was ridiculously endearing. "Come on, it was _so _obvious. I'm disappointed, Rach. I would have figured you of all people would have a finely tuned gaydar."

"Jesse!" she scolded, smacking him lightly in the chest. Returning her attention to the other table again, her brow creased as she saw the couple furtively cover their entwined hands under a napkin. They didn't think they had anything to be ashamed of, surely? Rachel felt something drop down into the pit of her stomach, cold and painful. That was just _wrong_. If they were happy then they had every right to share it with all the world if they wanted to. True happiness was something so rare and fragile after all, it deserved to be celebrated whenever it could.

She was distracted from her thoughts as she heard Jesse speak up from beside her, his tone thoughtful and sombre once more.

"Good for them," he muttered softly. "At least there are some people brave enough to go for what they want."

Rachel frowned but before she could turn to him and raise a question in retort, they were interrupted by a young girl in a neatly pressed uniform who popped up on the other side of the counter. The smiling waitress handed over a bag that smelled of all kinds of delicious things, flashing a set of perfect white teeth and flirting so blatantly with Jesse that Rachel felt a scowl settle over her features despite herself. The former lead of Vocal Adrenaline offered a polite half smile to his young admirer in return, before picking up his dinner and heading out of the restaurant without a word of farewell, leaving Rachel battling a fresh wave of frustration in his wake.

_/o/_

"This is to remind us what glee is all about, which is just fun."

Oh, silly him, he thought it was about winning Nationals. Jesse sighed again at their skewed sense of priorities. Fair enough, he could see the logic in letting off steam now and again, his brief alliance with this club a few years ago had taught him the reluctant value of that at least, but you could never afford to take your eye off the ball when you were in the throws of ruthless competition. Not if you were serious about winning.

Blaine clearly came from a background with a similar ethos to New Directions, which is exactly why his former team hadn't ever made it to Nationals before. Jesse had always made a point of keeping tabs on their rivals, and while the Warblers had never registered as anything worth noting during his time at Carmel, that didn't mean he wasn't aware of their potential or unable to respect their talent. Recently they had been making more noise, making it through to Regionals last year in that curious result and gaining a growing recognition. Yet there was no dignity in a draw as far as Jesse was concerned, and it was beyond him how they could all embrace it so happily. Further proof that they really were worlds apart from him and Vocal Adrenaline.

He grimaced as the music started up. Did this guy have a Katy Perry fetish or something? Yet as Blaine began singing away to the opening lyrics of _TGIF_, bopping about so enthusiastically that he drew a smile even from Jesse, the energy of his good mood proved surprising infectious. Grudging truth be told, he actually kind of liked Blaine. Anyone who annoyed Finn that much automatically went up in Jesse's estimation. He didn't even mind him starring opposite Rachel in their newly rekindled _West Side Story_ production. Well, he certainly minded it the least out of the alternative options for her fellow romantic lead.

The whole room was soon on their feet, skipping about and climbing on the furniture like kids at recess. Jesse raised an eyebrow as Quinn appeared in front of him, flashing him a teasing smile before reaching for his hands and pulling him up to join the dance before he could object. The music was blaring as Blaine belted out the vocals over the backing chorus of his team, the floor full of pumping fists and twirling bodies, smiles and laughter running riot as New Directions gave themselves over to the frivolity of the moment as only they ever could.

Rachel giggled as Blaine lifted her down from the tabletop, spinning her briefly before putting her back on her ground and dashing off to chase after Kurt. Dancing around Artie, she grinned and twirled nimbly on her toes, turning to search out her boyfriend in the crowd, only to frown as she glimpsed another couple from across the room.

She couldn't remember the last time she had seen Jesse laugh so opening, a grin spreading across his lips that was echoed by the girl in his arms as she spun smoothly back into his embrace. Rachel felt her throat close up sickeningly, distracting her so much that she lost the beat of the song, slipping out of the rhythm. She didn't know why she couldn't look away, why such a sight bothered her so much when it had no right to. She watched as Jesse's hand slid across the former cheerleader's stomach, the gesture slow and soft and subtle, but it made Rachel narrow her eyes all the same. He turned his head and spoke something into her ear, something that made Quinn's eyes lower, a smile tug her lips. Something secret.

Rachel _hated_ secrets.

However before she could contemplate the scene any further, she was abruptly distracted by Blaine's smiling face as he popped up beside her, driving all other thoughts from her mind as he grinned and pulled her away into a dance. Laughing, Rachel dived in gratefully, losing herself in the frantic energy of the music once more. When she finally emerged from his twirling arms again, she noticed that Jesse had since moved off to the side of the floor, preferring to observe from a distance, but his attention was no longer focused on Quinn. Rachel quickly looked away from the lock of his eyes, gritting her teeth, not knowing which one drove her crazier.

Jesse watched with amusement as Rachel practically rushed over into the safety of Finn's embrace a moment later, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing close with a smile, before dropping back into her seat and clapping exuberantly as the song drew to an end.

"You guys, that song is amazing! I think we should do it for Sectionals!"

Jesse threw a dubious look across the room at her exclamation. He knew that Rachel got swept up in their performances sometimes, but she should know by now that they were not going to win Sectionals with _that _song. Chick rock would only get you so far. He was entirely unsurprised however when Santana piped up irritably a moment later, airing her brewing discontent with all her usual tact. He could have pre-empted this disgruntled confrontation a mile off. Jesse knew Shelby's tactics. He'd seen Mercedes whispering away in Santana's ear recently, and it was only a matter of time before further fractures appeared. His dear mentor always did get other people to do her dirty work, he thought bitterly.

He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as the Latina stalked off though. The Blaine and Rachel show, huh? Well, that certainly beat the Finn and Rachel gag-a-thon they were currently being forced to endure.

_/o/_

Tapping her pencil against the textbook, she cast her eyes over the equations that covered the pages, a satisfied smile brushing her lips as she quickly deduced the correct formulas to use. It wouldn't take her more than half an hour to finish the last of her homework assignments and then she could finally break out of here. While she was still a little behind in English and chemistry, it hadn't been hard at all for her to catch up, and even skip ahead, with all the math lessons she had skipped out on at the start of term. In fact, the truth was that she had _never_ had a problem grasping the finer points of mathematics. She honestly didn't know why she found numbers so easy, why the logic and rules of even the most complex equations just seemed to click inside her mind, but it wasn't a skill she was about to share with the world.

The thump of a bag dropping onto her table pulled her from her thoughts, though she didn't bother to look up in greeting.

"I'm impressed," remarked a softly mocking voice from over her shoulder. "I didn't think you knew where the library even _was_."

When she pointedly ignored his comment, he merely turned and sat down on the table top beside her, propping his feet up in the plastic chair and making himself at home with all the ease as if he had been invited. Quinn finally looked up with a sigh, eyeing him irritably, though the slight curve of her lips betrayed her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked impatiently. "Do you just hang around the school all day in between rehearsals? That's pretty lame."

"Research," he explained with a smile, leaning back on his hands. "Someone has to actually put in the prep time for you lazy lot."

Quinn glanced to his side and saw the bulging folder of music sheets and notes poking out of his bag. She cocked a thoughtful eyebrow. "Huh. So you actually care about New Directions?"

"I care about my reputation," he corrected. "As long as my name is associated with you guys, it's in my interests to give you the benefit of my winning expertise."

"Just seems a little odd." He raised an eyebrow in question and Quinn waved a vague hand. "You hardly seem overly concerned about the recent spate of defections over to your former coach."

"Why would I be?"

"Well, as the hired consultant you would think it would be of some cause of interest to you. We're bleeding members left and right at the moment. Any great strategy to deal with _that?_"

Jesse shrugged. "What's senior year without a little drama? A few temporarily wayward members is nothing to cry about, and you can't lose your head at a time like this. Trust me, you have to bide your time with Shelby. It's a game of nerve and subtleties." Leaning down, he plucked a book out of her open bag that sat at his feet. "Speaking of which…" He drew his eyes over the title with a dry smile. _Basics of Baby Sacrifice._ "A little extracurricular reading?"

Quinn scowled as she snatched it away from him, thrusting the book back into her bag and casting her eyes about in case any nosy students or staff were lurking anywhere near their secluded corner. "You're not the only one with a plan," she muttered, making an effort to keep her voice low enough not to attract attention, even though there was no-one else in their direct vicinity.

A frown settled over his face as he regarded her. "You're really sure about this?"

She shot him an icy glare to which he didn't even flinch. "We've had this conversation before, remember. I have to get her back. I _need _her back." She shuddered, her voice dropping so low he almost didn't hear her next words. "Have you seen her?"

Jesse was silent as he shook his head. Quinn sighed, closing her eyes as if the memory somehow pained her. "She's… perfect. And I made her. The only thing I may ever do right in my life."

"So you figure you can just break into Shelby's apartment and plant implicating evidence? That's pretty fucked up, even for you."

A mirthless smile touched her lips. "Actually I figure I can do it legitimately. Offer to babysit."

"There's no way Shelby will allow you to be alone with Beth yet," Jesse pointed out, instantly dismissing the idea. "After all, you were McKinley's poster rebel child only a few weeks ago. Soulful transformations are meant to take a little more _time," _he added with a knowing smirk before retuning to the conviction of his argument. "No matter what she says about wanting you in her life, Shelby's too smart to invite you in unsupervised, just like that. You have to play this sincerely, box clever. Talk to a lawyer first, learn your options and prove your commitment. I'm not saying it'll be easy, you've got a year's lapse after all, but you won't know until you find out."

She sent him a sceptical look but Jesse just shrugged. "You can't outmanoeuvre a pro. Bottom line is that you're her birth mom. Play to your strengths."

Without another word, he gave a tight smile and slipped off the table, sweeping up his satchel and walking off. Quinn looked after his retreating back for a long moment, before returning her attention to her bag on the seat. After a moment of reluctant hesitation, she finally stood up and followed suit, pausing only to drop the book into the nearest trash bin as she headed out of the library.

_/o/_

The bright sunlight flashed off the bejeweled lid of the pink cell as Rachel twirled it restlessly between her fingers. Glancing down, she flipped it open and stared at the screen for a long moment, the pads of her fingers hovering over the keys, before snapping it shut again. Slumping back against the brick wall of the school, she blew some hair off her forehead with a frustrated huff and tried to listen to the sounds of the birds and traffic. This was why she hated loitering about and waiting; it gave her too much time alone with unwanted thoughts.

She knew about Burt entering into the Senatorial race from Finn, but she was still hurt that Kurt hadn't been the one to tell her first. Normally he would have been on the phone all evening with her, sharing his excitement and misgivings and trading fashion tips for candidate debates. To be honest, Rachel still felt at a bit of a loss about what to do about their rift. She didn't know how to make him see reason and things felt unbearably lonely without her best friend butting into her life every two minutes.

"You should call him."

She looked up in surprise at the familiar voice, only to see Jesse cross the parking lot in front of her as he emerged out of the school. She blinked, realising too late that she was standing less than a few feet from his car. Rachel watched as he threw his bag and some various folders into the trunk of the Porsche before pulling it shut and turning around to lean against vehicle, crossing his arms loosely as he met her gaze.

Jesse nodded an inch towards the phone she was still fiddling with in her hands. "You know you miss him."

She sighed, unable to refute the truth of his observations. "He's still cold-shouldering me over the election campaign."

"You two really are as stubborn as each other."

"Pot calling kettle," she retorted, smiling up at him reluctantly.

He flashed a quick grin in acknowledgment but seemed unwilling to drop the point. She wondered why he cared about fixing her relationship with Kurt at all.

"Maybe you need to be the one to take the initiative. Make the first move."

"But I didn't do anything wrong," she protested sulkily.

"Doesn't matter," he continued, brushing aside her objections. "Blame is all subjective anyway. Regardless of bad feelings, sooner or later you're going to have to weigh your pride against what really matters to you."

Rachel frowned as she studied him for a long moment, both all too aware of just how much misplaced loyalties could cost you, and sometimes it was a price you could regret paying. Finally dropping her eyes, she heaved a deep breath, slumping further against the wall as if momentarily crushed by the pressure on her shoulders.

"Well, pretty soon he won't be the only one not speaking to me anyway," she muttered. "The guys already think it's my fault that people are deserting the glee club like a sinking ship."

Jesse took in her dejected expression with a sharp gaze, fighting to contain the irritated anger that soured his temper. Why did she think everything was _her _fault all of a sudden? Since when was her fierce spirit so easily crushed and undermined? The frustration snapped at his insides like a caged animal until he had to clench his fists against the almost physical urge to shake her back to her senses, to snatch her up and take her as far away from this poisoned trap of a town as possible.

Blaming the most hard-working and talented member of their team for the recent desertions in New Directions was beyond pathetic. The girls were throwing their toys out of the pram, simple as that – all because they couldn't hack the realities of the showbiz industry. He could understand Rachel's fears of the glee club breaking up, the next few months would certainly be rocky, but he would be damned if he let her think it was somehow her doing.

"Then they're wrong," he returned firmly. "It's nothing to do with you. Let them screw up their lives with their own issues."

There was the sound of a whistle blowing from the playing fields behind the school, signalling the end of football practice, and drawing the attention of both their gazes. Jesse's eyes hardened and Rachel faltered as she cast a look back at him. The silence seemed to stretch for a taught heartbeat, both knowing one of them had to leave but somehow unwilling to take the first step, each waiting for the other.

Finally Jesse set his jaw and straightened up. "Your boyfriend's waiting," he said curtly, before striding around and pulling open the car door, turning the engine over and disappearing out of the parking lot before she could answer him. Rachel gritted her teeth. She really wished he would _stop _doing that – taking off with the last word before she could call him out on it. It was _so_ infuriating.

_/o/_

"I got your message," he said casually, meeting her waiting gaze with a small smirk. "Feeling a little bored?"

Quinn smiled, stepping up to him with a coy flick of her golden locks. "Let's just say I'm taking advantage," she amended, reaching out to grasp a fistful of his shirt and winding it tight around her fingers.

Jesse laughed as she pulled him close, wrapping a hand over her hip before casting a curious glance around the empty stairwell.

"Little quiet isn't it?"

"You underestimate the grapevine at our school."

"On the contrary," he murmured hotly against her jaw. "I just want to make sure we use it to optimum effect."

She raised an eyebrow. "Can't perform without an audience, huh?"

Jesse grinned, backing her against the wall so quickly she sucked in a breath, a toying smile spreading across her lips in anticipation. "Cheeky bitch," he smiled in her ear. "Is that a challenge?"

"Afraid you won't measure up?" she goaded mischievously, digging her teeth into her lip as his leg slipped between hers, his hand circling her waist.

"Forgive me for keeping in mind the primarily objective of this little escapade."

"You're forgetting the secondary objective."

"Which is?" he pushed teasingly.

Quinn's hands travelled up his chest to lock into his hair, the tug of her fingers dangerously tempting. _"Fun."_

He drew his mouth ever so lightly over hers, pressing smile to smile. "Well, since we have a little time to kill…"

There was nothing gentle about the burning kiss he dragged her into, nothing tentative about the exploration of their hands as they plunged recklessly into each other, driven by a twisted sense of frustration that no-one else could understand. Quinn's hands slid down his shoulder blades, pulling up the hem of his shirt to dig into his skin, her chest heaving from lack of air. Jesse drew back an inch as her nails scraped and stung in raw scratches across his back, his breath hissing through his teeth even as his lips curved against her ear.

"Kitty's got claws, huh?" he drawled playfully.

Quinn smiled in response to the wry words but was soon distracted as she felt him drop his mouth down to her neck. Not to be outdone, Jesse wasted no time in leaving his own mark, biting and drawing on the soft skin until her grip became painful, bruising hard enough to make her gasp sharply. His hand was pressed flat against her stomach as she found his mouth again, fingers creeping under her top and pinning her back into the wall.

"Think we did enough damage?" she mumbled when they finally broke apart a few minutes later.

"For now," he agreed, smiling against her lips.

They were interrupted by the sudden clamour of the bell, the shrill sound echoing up and down the school and signalling that they had about twenty seconds until a stream of students flooded into the stairwell. Yet neither made any effort to disentangle themselves, indeed they almost seemed to lean closer in anticipation.

Jesse groaned quietly as his phone beeped inside his pocket, chirping insistently with an alarm that sounded like a message or reminder. He pulled back and she saw him turn away to look at it.

"Don't let me keep you."

"Errand," he replied, shoving the cell back into his pocket.

"Skipping out on school?" she teased.

"You're forgetting, I'm already a dropout. I have a certain reputation to uphold."

He grinned and caught her hand as the first wave of hurrying teenagers banged through the doors and rushed past them, smirking at the furtive looks that were cast their way and the growing current of whispers that followed. "Quinn, as ever," he brushed a theatrical kiss over her knuckles that made her laugh, "always a pleasure." Then he was gone, disappearing into the flow of bodies that moved down the steps.

Quinn smiled to herself as she fought her way against the tide and to her next class. This was proving to be even more enjoyable than she had anticipated. And the best hadn't even come yet. Rachel Berry could only ever keep her thoughts to herself for so long.

_/o/_

Jeez, for a school that complained endlessly about finance problems, they had an apparently bottomless budget when it came to staging shows in empty auditoriums. Jesse shook his head at the glaring contradiction of this inconsistency but then let it pass, as seemed to be the norm around here.

Further down the rows of seats he could see Mr. Schuester and Finn sitting in dumb-struck despair at the slick, stylish performance they were bearing witness to. No doubt they would respond to such an obvious threat by desperately recruiting in anyone and everyone who showed an interest in the club, and he would bet good money that the first bout of fresh blood would come in the form of that new foreign exchange student who had taken to hanging around in Finn's shadow for some godforsaken reason. Jesse sighed, slouching heavily against the back wall. He didn't particularly want to isolate any new members they might receive, especially with the precarious balance in numbers, but if he had to hear the Irish kid gushing about Finn and Rachel and the infamous _'kiss that missed'_ one more time, he might have to "accidently" break the junior's jaw.

Shelby was sitting at the table that he himself had sat at many times during the _West Side Story_ auditions, familiar dark hair curling over her shoulders as she cast a critical eye over her new group. The uniforms were a nice tribute and the whole set up had his former coach's unmistakable flair on it, the routine surprisingly tight and smooth, considering what she had to work with. But then again, she always did know how to work their best assets.

"_There's nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm."_

He noticed Santana glance up in his direction, catching his eyes with a wink. Jesse smirked. _Trouble Tones_ indeed.

Oh, Shelby was _good._

**~o~**

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong> Okay, I was expecting this chapter to be a lot shorter than it actually turned out, because I honestly thought _'Pot O Gold'_ was a very hard episode to work with. But then the scenes ended up being long and many rather than short and few. Anyway, I hope it didn't come across as too... well, _fractured_, lol! As for Jesse and Quinn, lovely St. Berrians, I'm afraid you will just have to bear with me. You should know by now that I'm a self-confessed angst junkie! But I promise that my heart is true ;) I just love giving my characters a bloody hard time! Thank you for reading (and reviews make the flowers grow!) Next stop, _'First Time'..._


	5. Best Laid Plans

**Getting It Right - Best Laid Plans**

* * *

><p>The coach was crying again.<p>

Jesse turned his head in an effort to conceal his disgust, mentally rolling his eyes at the lack of professionalism he was forced to contend with on a daily basis. Unfortunately that only brought his gaze to fall over his two other so-called _co-directors_. Emma was beaming like an enraptured child to his left and Artie looked like he was sucking on a lemon his lips were pursed so tight, nodding his head every so often as he regarded the players in front of them. Sighing under his breath, Jesse wondered again just what exactly had qualified any of these amateurs for this position in the first place. Don't get him wrong, the arts were fundamentally all about stirring powerful emotions, but there was a time and a place for it. How did these guys expect to offer any constructive criticism and draw the best out of their cast when they were awed beyond words by every single performance?

Casting off the frustrated thoughts with a shake of his head and drawing his attention back to the rehearsal that they were currently in the middle of working on, Jesse settled back in his chair with a contemplative frown. Rachel was belting out the lyrics pitch perfect as ever, embellishing her performance with all the trademark Broadway gestures, leaving Blaine in her shadow somewhat. While some of it was just experience playing in her favour, she was close to toeing over the threshold of scene stealing. Not that he could really fault her for that, it would be rather hypocritical of him after all, and yet it was a line you had to learn to tread carefully in the professional world. While he would be content to watch her perform for hours, most of their fellow peers wouldn't take kindly to being dazzled by someone else's spotlight, no matter how radiant it was.

Yet there was something else missing. Their voices were both strong and worked well together, but it was almost like they were singing two separate melodies that happened to harmonise by accident every now and then. There was a lack of interaction and the intimacy which any true duet required. They were all hitting all the notes, though their projection needed some work, but it all was too… sweet. There was something very FOX network,_ teen-soap-drama _about it all. All teeth and no bite.

To his surprise, it was an observation that was apparently shared by someone else.

"Can I be honest?" Artie cut in when the vanilla rated version of _'Tonight'_ came to an end a few mintues later. "This song is about sexual awakening, as is the entire musical." He gestured to their leading stars with a wave of his hand. "You two lack passion. Have either of you two actually…?"

Jesse had never seen two adults exit a room as quickly as Pillsbury and Beiste did at that randomly spouted question. This school really was so repressed it was unbelievable. Rachel and Blaine were clearly thrown by the sudden probe into their privacy, stumbling over words and excuses before finally confirming the obvious, Rachel studiously avoiding Jesse's gaze as she did.

"Look," Artie began, puffing out his chest with an over-inflated air of authority, one that was frankly vastly outmatched by the boy sitting beside him. "As your friend, I support your strange aversion to fun. But, as your director, I'm concerned."

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?"

Jesse couldn't help the smile on his lips as Rachel stiffened with objection, her expression stubborn and earnest at the same time, never one to take a criticism lying down. She really was infuriatingly gorgeous when she was digging her heels in over an artistic dispute.

"Well, how do you expect to convey the human experience to an audience when you haven't even opened yourself up to one of humanity's most basic and primal ones?"

Rachel opened her mouth and then closed it, looking for all the world like she was actually considering taking such an absurd piece of advice to heart. Jesse raised an eyebrow, unable to believe what Artie was trying to seriously endorse. Was he really suggesting that you were incapable of being a convincing actor if you were a virgin? Man, there was a ridiculously ignorant and flawed piece of reasoning if ever he heard one. It sounded more like a sleazy _come-on_ line than any form of directorial insight.

"Depends how far you want to take method acting," Jesse interjected. "Personally, I think it's overrated." He lifted his shoulders dismissively, his tone cool and detached. "Anyone can have sex. It takes a whole other talent to draw the rest of the world into a private love story and make it compelling."

He saw Rachel and Blaine exchange a look and could only hope that they had better sense than to fall for this shit their director was trying to feed them. Their performance may be lacking, but certainly not for the ludicrous reason Artie was citing. Jesse frowned. Rachel had more passion than any other person he'd ever known – she could set hearts on fire and bring an audience to their knees and feet respectively with the depth of her emotion. It might need channelled and directed more concisely, but she was more than capable of making each story her own.

Yet she was holding back, and he didn't know why.

"Still," Artie spoke up from beside him, addressing Rachel and Blaine once more. "It couldn't hurt."

"Beg to differ," Jesse murmured under his breath.

_/o/_

He didn't mean to watch them, he really didn't.

They were talking beside one of her campaign posters, Rachel smiling warmly in her excitement while Finn just looked at her with that vacant dopey grin of his, as if permanently bemused by the situation he found himself in. Jesse clenched his jaw so hard it hurt but couldn't quite bring himself to turn away. It was becoming increasingly painful to witness any interaction between them, and for more than one reason. They were so mismatched as a couple, it was incomprehensible. Rachel was a comet of dazzling potential, lighting up the sky as she raced through the stars and towards her future – why she had chosen to tie herself down to a dead lump of rock, one with no hope of ever keeping up with her, Jesse would never know. He had never believed in the theory of opposites attracting and how she wasn't bored stupid by more than one minute in her boyfriend's company, he honestly couldn't fathom.

As he watched, Rachel leaned up on her tip toes and pressed her lips to Finn's in a lingering kiss, seeming to almost catch her boyfriend off guard with the impulse, although he was certainly quick to embrace it. Jesse's brow darkened and he snapped his gaze away, closing his eyes for the barest second but unable to block out the thoughts that taunted him, the sweet torture of an endless might-have-been.

_She was standing with her back to him, the pads of her fingers pressing down delicately at the corners of the poster as she aligned it up perfectly straight, too caught up in her concentration to notice his approach. Smiling to himself, he laid his hands upon her waist and abruptly turned her around, catching her surprised exclamation in the brush of his mouth. She giggled against him, her palms sliding along his neck as she eagerly returned the kiss, deep and hot enough to make his hands curl into her dress with longing. She pulled back a breath from his lips to meet his eyes. "Is this your idea of helping?" she queried with a smile. _

_He grinned against her mouth. "Absolutely." She laughed but the musical sound was soon muffled as he pulled her back into the fervour of their crashing kiss, backing them both up against the school corridor with a careless disregard for their surroundings._

Jesse came back to himself sharply, banishing the bittersweet indulgence from his head. Walking on briskly, he resumed his route to the auditorium, still plagued by the whisper of his all too vivid imagination. He shook his head. He was turning into a masochist except without any of the pleasure. God, he _really_ needed to kill some energy.

_/o/_

"Can I ask you a question?"

Tina turned around, still pulling a brush through her hair as she attempted to wrestle the tangled locks back into submission after the rigours of gym class. "Sure," she replied, frowning in curiosity as she watched her friend open her mouth and then hesitate with an uncharacteristic bout of doubt.

Rachel cast a quick look about the crowded changing rooms, pausing from packing up her bag to move closer, her voice lowering in a conspiratorial whisper. "You and Mike… How did you know when… when you're _ready_?"

"Ready?" Tina repeated, unsure if her friend was really talking about what she _thought_ she was talking about.

Rachel sighed, dropping to sit down on the bench. "I'm going over to Finn's tonight. He's cooking dinner for us."

"Oh," Tina mumbled in understanding. She eyed the girl next to her thoughtfully, trying to decipher the distant look on her face. "And… you're not sure you're ready?"

"That's not it. I mean, I think I'm… I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be." She sighed as if struggling to get her thoughts out. Leaning forward, she propped her elbows on her legs. "I mean, you're always going to be a bit nervous before the…the first time…right?"

"Rachel, he's not pressuring you, is he?"

"No! No, not at all," she insisted firmly, speaking so low and fast that Tina almost lost her friend's voice in the chatter of the changing rooms, especially now Rachel was speaking more to her knees than to her teammate. "It was my suggestion actually. I mean, I figure, why not now? Better sooner rather than later after all. It felt like a good idea…and it can only help things…"

Tina frowned, confused by Rachel's mumblings. "Rach, no-one can tell you when you're ready, only you can make that decision. But Finn's a good guy and you know he loves you – like a _stupid _amount. If anyone's going to wait for you and move forward on your terms, it's him."

An affectionate smile sparked on Rachel's lips, her eyes going soft and distant. "Yeah, you're right. And I love him, I do. It was always going to be him, he's the only one I've always been sure of, and that's all that really matters, isn't it?" She looked up decisively, meeting her friend's face with a confident nod and quiet smile of thanks. Sitting back abruptly and without pausing for a response to her rhetorical question, Rachel pushed some wayward locks away from her eyes impatiently. "Hey, you don't have a hair tie I could borrow, do you?"

"Um, yeah, sure. I think so…" Tina muttered, a little surprised at the sudden change of topic for a moment, before shrugging it off and turning around to dig through her bag beside them.

Rachel cast her gaze about the emptying locker room as she waited, musing over the conviction she had found and thinking forward to tonight with fresh determination. A frown soon fell over her face however as she spotted a familiar figure just a few paces away from where she sat, someone she hadn't noticed in the earlier bustle of activity.

Quinn's back was turned to them as she stripped off the McKinley sport shirt and tossed it onto the bench. Reaching for the blouse she had left hanging on the hook, she shook back the cropped flicks of her honey hair and pulled it over her head – but not before Rachel glimpsed the dark purple bruises that stained the curve of her neck. She felt her throat go dry, her heart dropping uncomfortably in her chest with a sickening violation that felt almost like betrayal. Morbid curiosity pinned her in place, held her gaze numbly, even though every fibre in her screamed to look away. To let it go.

"Can I help you?"

Jerking back, Rachel realised too late that the subject of her attention had turned around and caught her staring. Quinn folded her arms, a cool smugness in her tone that set Rachel's nerves on edge, making her eyes narrow with a confrontational urge she didn't completely understand. She quickly composed her expression, meeting the former Cheerio's gaze levelly.

"Hair straighteners again?" She nodded towards the painful marks that stood out violently against the pale canvas of the other girl's skin.

Quinn smiled mockingly, tugging her gym bag up onto her shoulder as she walked past and out of the changing rooms. "If you say so."

_/o/_

_Make of our hands, one hand,  
>Make of our hearts, one heart.<br>Make of our vows, one last vow;  
>Only death will part us now. <em>

Jesse's own hand moved quickly across the papers in front of him as his trained ear picked over the finer points of Blaine's performance, catching every waver in pitch and beat of timing and transcribing them through his fingers almost too fast to see. The boy was certainly improving, there was no doubt about that. Jesse could hear the difference in his vocal control even over these few weeks of rehearsals. Blaine's voice was strong, if unpolished, and it contrasted very nicely with Rachel's. Of course, Jesse knew that nothing could ever compare to the exceptional magic and chemistry that _his_ voice evoked when joined with hers, but that was a perfection that could never hope to be replicated and so it was an impossible standard he didn't even try to push them to. The heights of her duets with Blaine may never be as impressive, but they would be adequate for the purposes of this performance.

However, they still had a lot of work ahead of them.

_Make of our lives, one life.  
>Day after day, one life.<br>Now it begins, Now we start;  
>One Hand, One Heart.<br>Even death won't part us now._

As Maria's verse kicked in, Jesse lifted his eyes up and onto the stage below, a half smile drawing his lips. Of course she would steal the show; she was incapable of _not _pulling focus. Rachel reigned supreme in almost every performance she went into and she knew how to pack one hell of a punch into a song. Her voice filled the huge space with an incredible power, the high soprano notes coming across as deceptively effortless, even though he knew that it was out of her normal range and something she had dedicated many hours of struggle to over the weeks. And it had paid off. He saw her look out into the audience once more and deftly caught her gaze, sending her a smile of approval which she returned almost bashfully, before hastily turning her attention back to Blaine. Jesse smirked in quiet satisfaction. For all her confidence and drive and self-absorption, he could still manage to make her blush with a carefully timed compliment or gesture. It was a game he would never tire of.

The pencil in his fingers had all but fallen still under the spell of her voice for a long moment – however it didn't rest for long. There was always room for improvement as far as Jesse was concerned, even with a performer as talented as Rachel, and so with no small twinge of reluctance he forced his gaze back to the notebooks that covered the table before him.

The number soon ended and the rehearsal moved onto another scene, as directed by Artie from the edge of the stage – script in hand and glasses perched slightly askew on his nose. Jesse sighed and dropped back in his seat, casting a critical eye over the activities below and taking the opportunity to take a swig from the bottle of water beside him. It wasn't that he didn't have an opinion on the dialogue scenes, or that he was shy about expressing them, but that was just the way the roles of responsibility had been divided. He was the authority on vocals, while Artie had taken on the mantle of general director. Emma was happy to manage the costumes and budget, while Coach Beiste had found a convenient outlet for her love of welding by taking charge of set design. It wasn't perfect but it seemed to be working out, more or less. Give or take a few clashes of creative opinion.

Jesse's expression tightened as he thought back on the previous day's argument with a heavy sense of foreboding he just couldn't seem to shake. He didn't like at all what Artie had done with his little speech. Such naïve ignorance could prove very dangerous in the wrong impressionable minds, and he really didn't want to stoke the fire of bad decisions anymore than they were already.

His eyes drifted over the stage, following the flow of her gestures, how she moved and spoke with all the longing urgency of their tragic story as the two leads played through one of their more intimate scenes. He watched the way Blaine took her hand, the way she touched his face and held his eyes, and a familiar thorn of resentment stabbed inside his stomach. Running a hand through his hair, Jesse rubbed his temple and curbed the irrational reaction as much as he could; needlessly reminding himself for the hundredth time that Blaine was _gay_ and already spoken for. It certainly took the worst sting out of it, but stage jealously was an instinct that he struggled to assuage at the best of times, and the emotions were only all the more heightened wherever Rachel was involved.

A scowl fell over his features as unwanted memories pushed into his head, fuelled by his troubled reflections. All the little glances, easy touches and private smiles that she bestowed on Blaine under their director's watchful eye… It was everything she shared with Finn on a daily basis, everything Jesse had once held in the palm of his hand and then thrown away. Her interaction with her on-stage lover only served to remind him all the more of the way she was with her real-life boyfriend, all the tender moments he was forced to witness between them weighing down on his mind like an oppressive shadow.

A sharp snap drew him abruptly out of his thoughts. Glancing down, he saw that the pencil had finally broken between his fingers, unable to bear the brunt of his taught grip any longer. Making up his mind, Jesse dropped the splintered remains onto the tabletop and withdrew his cell, scrolling down to a familiar number.

_French corridor, ten mins._

_/o/_

Quinn rolled her eyes with a smile. A man of few words, wasn't he? Well, it was certainly to the point, though she couldn't help wondering what had provoked such a curt message of demand out of the blue like that. Her desire and curiosity got the better of her (of course) and it wasn't long before she found herself heading for the language department. Besides, it wasn't as if she had anything else she was supposed to be doing after all. Like, say, schoolwork. But where was the fun in that?

Yet when she reached the rendezvous location, she found the hallways empty. She frowned gently as she walked down the corridor, irritably wondering just what the hell he was playing at. Suddenly a door cracked open to her right and Quinn had to stifle a gasp as an arm reached out and snatched her around the waist, pulling her into the warm darkness.

As the door clicked shut behind them, she found herself caught in a strong embrace, pressed against a gorgeously firm body that she was becoming increasingly familiar with. Quickly recovering her balance and allowing her sight to adjust to the dimness, she found his face through the shadows and arched a sceptical eyebrow.

"The janitor's closet? How original."

"Sometimes the classics are the best."

His hands were still resting on her waist, fingers softly flexing against the small of her back. Quinn slid her palms up his chest, a sly note of teasing creeping into her voice. "Seems a bit down and dirty for you."

She could hear the knowing smile he skimmed over her ear, the murmured words hot and husky against her skin. "Well, it beats almost being caught with a junior on the Principle's desk."

Quinn pulled back to meet his gaze, unable to hide the tinge of awe and disbelief in her expression as she regarded her partner in crime with fresh intrigue. "You didn't…"

He shrugged, brushing aside the casual confession with a matter-of-fact tone. "It was a bet."

"For you or for her?"

"Doesn't matter." Jesse smirked, his dark eyes distant with the echo of pleasurable memories. "We won it fair and square."

Quinn shook her head, grinning as she leaned in close and tugged his mouth down to hers. She felt him smile into the kiss, his hands travelling up her back as they wound their way into her hair. However the leisurely pace didn't last long. She sucked in a sharp breath as he moved to slide his fingers along her neck, tilting her head and forcing them to deepen the kiss, his mouth bruising hers with a rush of heat that burned through the pit of her stomach in eager anticipation.

Her hands grasped the shirt hem at his waist, holding firm even as she reluctantly drew back to regain her breath. She could feel the tension in his chest and arms, and she knew that he was silently struggling with the boundaries of self-restraint, the confines of a tortured frustration that was getting ever closer to breaking point. Running a hand along his shoulder, she quirked a playful smile.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure? Pressure of directing getting to you?"

She watched his expression as it turned guarded and sober, his arms falling back to cross over his chest as he lowered his eyes. When he finally broke his silence, his voice was low and tight.

"Have you heard the rumours?"

"About us?"

"About _them._"

Quinn frowned. "What, you mean _'tonight's the night'_ and all that bullshit? What of it?"

He didn't answer right away, and for a moment she wasn't sure he would at all. His eyes were still cast towards the floor when he reluctantly spoke again, his knuckles stained white in his clenched hands.

"Do you think she will?"

"How the hell would I know?" she retorted, a little more bluntly than she intended. If Rachel wanted to stop being such an uptight, celibate, little killjoy and finally put Finn out of his misery – fine. It didn't mean Quinn particularly wanted to dwell on such a prospect. And neither did Jesse, by the look of it. She winced inwardly, abruptly reminded of the silent confession shared over a cigarette only a few weeks ago, a pained truth that for better or worse couldn't be undone. Her expression softened. "It's just a rumour."

"So are we," he pointed out, a small smile stirring on his lips.

She watched as he slumped back against the wall with a sigh, his shoulders hunching as he seemed to close up, retreating into the prison of his thoughts. "You're brooding again," she said reprovingly, sidling closer to press into his chest until his arms dropped around her waist again. She ran her lips up his neck, pressing a kiss under his jaw. "Want me to take your mind off it?"

He pulled her tighter, his breath whispering over her forehead with the ghost of a smile. "Well, since you offer so nicely…"

Quinn smiled and raised her hand to his cheek as their mouths met once more, letting the pressure build for a tantalizing moment, before eagerly following his lead as he pulled them both back hard into the wall. All lingering troubles were soon driven back in the advance of their wandering hands, the caress of skin and crash of lips, an elusive relief that both accepted gratefully. It wasn't until they stumbled a little too forcefully and accidently knocked over a bucket and mop that they broke apart, their hushed laughter echoing softly in the darkness.

_/o/_

Rachel tapped the gavel on the desktop, halting the murmur of chatter and summoning the attention of the room.

"This emergency meeting is now in session," she announced, folding her hands neatly and casting a quick look around the assembled group. "I realise that we are a house divided but I need the advice of my girls. The last time I called a meeting like this was during our Madonna lesson, and all of you were wildly unhelpful."

"I still think you should have let Jesse be the one to pop your cherry," Santana commented idly, examining her nails with an expression of mild disgust. "Sex with Finn is like being smothered by a sweaty, out-of breath sack of potatoes that someone soaked in body spray. At least St. James actually knows what he's doing."

"Oh, like you've ever been in a position to compare notes," Tina cut in, rolling her eyes.

"Whatever," the Latina drawled, dismissing the rebuke with a wave of her hand before flashing a sly smirk. "Okay, fine. So maybe we should ask Quinn."

"Wait, is that actually _true_?"

Rachel gritted her teeth. They _really _needed to shut up. The last thing she wanted to think about was Jesse and Quinn right now, and she was only thankful that she hadn't invited the former cheerleader to this impromptu meeting. She just couldn't cope with the messed up soup her emotions became when faced with the prospect of that ambiguous relationship – least of all now.

"Guys," she interrupted loudly. "We're talking about _my _situation, remember?"'

"Just for a change," Brittany muttered.

"Look," she pressed on, taking a deep breath and regaining her focus. "Finn and I were… almost intimate last night."

"Almost?" Tina gave her a pointed look of concern. "What happened?"

Rachel sighed. "He ran out. I just, I wanted my performance of Maria to be as realistic as possible, and when he found out that that's why I was doing it, he got really, really hurt."

"Of course he was hurt."

"Yeah, that's really bad, Rachel."

"I know, I know," she mumbled, dropping her head into her hands. "I feel terrible, and now I realise that I was just doing it for all the wrong reasons."

"If you're this worried about it, maybe you should just hold off," said Brittany with a shrug.

"I'm not worried about…it," she corrected hesitantly. "I'm just worried that I upset him. I know he loves me and I… I just want it to be special."

"Then you just need to reassure him," Tina suggested. "Be honest with him."

"I don't know what the big deal is," Santana said impatiently. "The first time is _never_ perfect, trust me. Frankly, it's all less an ethereal experience of pleasure and more an easily-forgettable bout of awkward fumbling. If you're looking for a dulcet choir of bluebirds moment, it ain't gonna happen. Hell, if he even comes _close_ to finding your G-spot at all, it'll be purely by accident."

"Santana, that is not cool."

"I lost my virginity at cheerleading camp," added Brittany. "He just… climbed into my tent. Alien invasion."

Rachel was finding it hard to get her head together amid the varying volley of opinions. At a loss for what to say, she mumbled the only coherent thought in her head.

"He cooked meat."

At the blank looks she received, she dropped her gaze and tried to explain her random comment – the innocent oversight that bothered her so much more than she had been willing to admit. "For dinner. He just… forgot."

Rachel grimaced as she recalled the awkward exchange that had ensued in the wake of that revelation, a single slip of mind that had managed to turn a thoughtful gesture into an uncomfortable mood-killer. It had been a devastating moment when she'd taken one bite into her dinner and realised that her boyfriend had somehow completely forgotten one of her most important personal principles. He'd been mortified of course and had been quick to make her up something else, deaf to her objections that she could just eat around it. She had spent the rest of dinner assuring him that it wasn't a big deal, but she couldn't deny that a part of her was still deeply hurt over it. Three years they had known each other. _Three years._ The honest truth was that forgetting she was a vegan _was_ kinda a big deal for someone you were about to give your first time to.

"Well, at least you had _some_ meat last night, huh?" Santana smirked.

Rachel scowled at the smug Latina but was distracted by Tina speaking up from her perch on the stool.

"Losing my virginity was a great experience for me. Because I was with someone I love. It was right. It wasn't rushed. It was amazing." She gave a small shrug, her smile soft with intimate memories. "Mike is my first love, and I'll always look back at that moment as absolutely perfect, something I'll remember for the rest of my life. No regrets."

Rachel stared at her friend, taking in her words with rapt attention. It was rare that she had heard Tina talk so openly about her and Mike's first time, and the tenderness of her emotions struck a resonance deep inside Rachel with their simplicity. That was how it was supposed to be, wasn't it? It was just love at the end of the day, all complications and doubt aside – as long as they had that, then it would always be right.

"No regrets," she murmured under her breath, nodding to herself.

_/o/_

"Wait, I don't – I don't understand what any of this means –"

She reached for him in confusion, her gaze wide and earnest as she tried to halt his restless pacing.

"It means I suck!" he burst out angrily. "It means I'm gonna be stuck here forever. Cooter's not gonna recruit me. He said I'd reached my ceiling."

Rachel shook her head, refusing to let him wallow in despair like this. "There are other colleges, not –"

"Oh, like there are other schools for you besides NYADA?" he shot back, making her recoil at the force of his words. "I'm not good enough! I'm not a good enough quarterback to get a scholarship; I'm not a good enough singer to get into NYADA. It's all over for me!" he bemoaned dramatically, collapsing down onto the sofa and burying his head in his hands.

Rachel stood stunned for a moment, trying to wrap her head around what she had walked into. She had come over tonight to apologise and had found Finn in the middle of a personal crisis. She had never seen him like this before and it tore something inside her heart to see the boy she loved so broken, so utterly despondent, thinking he had nothing left. It just wasn't true. She dropped onto her knees in front of him, taking his face firmly in her hands, determined to fix this somehow.

"Stop it! Finn, look at me. Your dreams are not dead, okay? You've just grown out of them. You have to find new ones now."

He closed his eyes wearily, turning his head to lean into her touch. He let out a deep sigh, letting go of his anger and giving into her comfort. His breath brushed her palm as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how."

"Then we'll figure it out together," she insisted sternly. "You're special. You know how I know that?" She watched him duly raise his eyes to hers, so lost and defeated, looking to her for a light to guide his way back out of the darkness. She was all he had now. Rachel swallowed, trying to gather the words out of the dust of her throat, prying them from her lips. Her voice sounded small and unfamiliar, distant somehow, like it belonged to another person. "Because I'm going to give you something. Something that no one else is ever going to get."

She saw his confused eyes widen an inch in comprehension and she gave him a soft smile of assurance, one that was as much for her as it was for him. She waited, the seconds ticking on torturously, her thumb still grazing his cheek almost compulsively. However, when it became clear that he was not going to make the first move, she took a deep breath and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his and sealing her commitment for them both.

It was apparently all the confirmation he required, and he was soon deepening the kiss, pulling her so close against him that she had to sit up on her knees in order to maintain the contact. She felt his hands stroke down her neck to the collar of her jacket, moving to ease it off her shoulders. She let him strip the garment from her, only opening her eyes again when she heard the brush of his voice against her lips.

"We could go upstairs…to my room?"

He was looking at her with a mixture of hesitation and urgency, asking and imploring at the same time. All the honest emotion she loved about him was there, written within his gaze for only her to see as he awaited her response. Rachel could summon only a nod in answer, finding that her voice had seemingly deserted her. She certainly wasn't doing _it _on his parent's living room floor and she was starting to lose the feeling in her legs from her awkward kneeling position.

A look of almost awed relief crossed his face and he was quickly on his feet, gently pulling her up to hers. The journey to his bedroom was short and quiet, neither knowing what to say to fill the moment, and Rachel felt somehow adrift without the anchor of her usually confident words. Instead she followed him up the stairs in silence, his hold on her hand strangely numb, the touch of his fingers cool against her skin.

When they reached his bed, Rachel stood uncomfortably for a moment before following his lead and sitting down, feeling disproportionally awkward as she did so. They had made out on his bed dozens of times, and yet she seemed to have left all the ease of familiarity at the threshold. She bit her lip. This was harder than she had expected. Surely she wasn't meant to stop and question her next move so much? Shuffling closer to him, she met his eyes again with a tentative smile, forcing herself to try and relax as he ran his hand through her hair and brought her lips back to his.

They kissed for a few long moments, taking the time to explore each other without restraint, and Rachel was just beginning to shut off her mind when she felt Finn pull back. Opening her eyes dazedly, she saw him reach down and pull off his shirt, casting it to the floor beside them. Her heart rate instantly kicked back up to a painful level and she averted her gaze shyly before she could stop herself. It was hardly the first time she had seen her boyfriend shirtless, but for some reason she couldn't shake the feeling that this was all going a little faster than she would have chosen.

When he caught her mouth again, the kiss had gained an edge of demanding pressure, one she struggled to keep up with as she let him lay them both down against the pillows. She was finding it hard to breathe, but she told herself that was a natural reaction – only to be expected. He planted kisses down her neck, making a cursory sweep over her collarbone as Rachel drew in an uneven breath, squeezing her eyes shut as she clung to his shoulders. She barely felt the tug of his hands on the hem of her blouse before he was tugging it over her head, and she shivered as the cool air struck her bare skin. He kissed her again almost instantly, cupping her face and leaning down, covering her exposed flesh with his own. As the kisses delved with increasing force, Rachel couldn't help feeling overwhelmed by the weight of expectation of what she had started, by the feeling that perhaps he needed this more than she did.

As his fingers wandered up to the clasp of her bra, she suddenly felt severely lightheaded – and not in a good way. As her mind struggled with the fresh surge of emotions such a symptom triggered, it abruptly dawned on her that it was the fight or flight instinct, and god, it was _strong._ But that was crazy. _She'd_ initiated this for god's sake! Why the hell was her body warning her to run from the thing she wanted the most.

Rachel pushed gently against his chest, pulling away and forcing them to sit up. Breaking the kiss completely, she blinked long and hard and tried to concentrate on slowing out her breathing – which was less the breathless gasps of passion but the shallow pants of panic.

"Are you okay? Rach?"

She opened her eyes at his voice to find his gaze fixed on her intently. Her head was swimming like she'd been under water for too long, her thoughts foggy with adrenaline.

"Just feel a little dizzy," she said at last, her hand grasping at his shoulder in support.

It looked for a moment as if he was going to take her reply as a compliment, but as he caught the sudden pallor of her cheeks, his expression quickly faded to troubled concern.

"Do you want a drink?"

_I want to go home._

The desperate thought caught her off guard so suddenly that she stumbled over her reply. She didn't understand what was happening, the numbing fear and panic that had seized her body were far more acute than first time nerves or the rush of anticipation. "I just need a moment," she mumbled, scrunching her eyes shut. "Maybe I'll just go to the bathroom, cool down a bit…"

"Of course," Finn said, confusion joining the worry on his face, but she had already stood up off the bed and was moving for the ensuite before he could summon any further response.

Slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door, Rachel slumped back with a deep breath and tried to get a grip on herself. She couldn't understand the instinct that had just propelled her out of her boyfriend's loving embrace with such force. She didn't know why she craved the physical space, why she could only now finally breathe again. None of it made any sense.

Leaning over the sink, she ran the tap and washed her face, hoping the freezing water would somehow snap her out of whatever this bout of uncertainty was all about. Lifting her head, she glared accusingly at her reflection, as if it were the one responsible for her current predicament.

And yet, she reflected wryly, this wasn't the first time she had found herself in this position – locked away in the bathroom with her bemused boyfriend on the other side.

'_Just come out so we can talk. Or sing about it.'_

Oh, how times had changed. But she had never imagined that one day it would be Finn she was hiding from. Rachel smiled faintly at the whisper of a memory that felt like such a long lifetime ago…

Jesse had stood outside and pleaded with her for almost fifteen minutes before she had finally caved in and opened the door to him. That boy could be surprisingly patient when he felt like it. And in truth, the majority of that time when she had refused to see him had been because she had feared her resolve would shatter the moment she did – that she would jump on him, forget herself and drag them both back to her bed. The powerful hormonal urge of her body betraying her to something she knew in her head she wasn't ready for. Not then.

But now it was just the opposite, everything was reversed and back to front, and it was confusing as hell. Her head was insisting very vocally that this was the right time and with the right person. Yes, she wanted to enhance her acting and she certainly didn't want to start her life in New York a virgin – but it was more than that. She loved Finn deeply. She knew they were meant to be together, that they were meant for each other. Now was _their_ time and there wasn't anyone else she was prepared to give herself to, no one else she wanted. _This_ was what she wanted – with him and only him.

But her body told a different story. Rachel dropped her head with a sigh, struggling to reconcile the conflicting instincts within her. She could feel it even now, though much less intensely than a few minutes ago. Her muscles knotted tight with tension, the cool numbness of her skin, the weight of anxiety that cramped sickeningly in the bottom of her stomach. Her body closing itself off protectively, as if to keep an intruder at bay, reacting to a fear she wasn't even aware of. Fear of what, she didn't know. Regret? _No._ She shook her head defiantly. That was impossible – she would never regret Finn. She couldn't.

She suddenly realised then that her heart had remained strangely impassive during this internal debate, and that worried Rachel almost more than anything else. Surely her heart should be singing its joy and conviction the loudest? And yet it was quiet, clenched with the pain that wracked her but stubbornly silent. It was an odd sensation – like she was keeping secrets from herself, a code she couldn't unlock, a key hidden in plain sight.

And it was so frustrating she wanted to smash her fist through the bathroom mirror.

"Rach, everything okay?"

She jumped at the knock on the door behind her, snapping back to herself at the sound of his tentative voice just outside. Steeling herself, she turned around and slowly pulled the door open to meet his concerned eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, the words rushing out of her all at once. "I really want to, I do, but…I don't feel too well tonight…"

"It's okay," he assured, cutting off her stream of nervous chatter and pulling her into his chest. "We'll wait until you're ready. I want it to be perfect for you."

Rachel nodded in relief, fighting back the heat of tears. Of course he would understand, of course he wouldn't rush her. And yet a vein of tension ran through the gentle assurance in his voice, an undercurrent of frustration and impatience that couldn't be wholly subdued. His arms were stiff as he held her and she shivered as she felt him release a tight sigh into her hair. It was faint but it was there, a crack of distance between the beat of their hearts that she couldn't seem to close, no matter how hard she crushed herself into his arms.

Pressing her lips together, it was a long moment before she could bring herself to open her eyes again. At the end of the day, she could only hope that the crack would mend on its own, that the fissure wouldn't grow wider.

_/o/_

The Lima Bean was surprisingly busy for the time of night. It couldn't be more than an hour or so before they closed and yet Rachel had to edge her way past a reasonable queue as she pushed through the doors.

Quickly pulling off her scarf, she cast her gaze about the cafe, wondering if she had gotten here first. But then she saw him, just turning away from the counter and folding a receipt neatly back into his wallet. Stuffing the scarf into her pocket, she made her way over, offering a small and tired wave when he glanced up and saw her.

However before she could muster a word of greeting as she reached him, he had taken one look at her and abruptly wrapped her up in a tight hug, one that warmed her far more than Finn's had earlier. She blinked in surprise for a moment before sinking into his embrace, returning it just as fiercely. She buried her face in his shoulder and dug her fingers into his blazer, not even caring if she was crushing his ribs in the process, impossibly grateful for the tendrils of comfort that were unfurling through her body. She didn't even care if they were making a strange scene in the middle of the café, and neither did he, and oh how she loved him for that. Warm affection spread slowly through her system and she soaked it in greedily, letting it melt away the frost that had settled over her skin ever since she had left her boyfriend's house a few hours ago.

After a long moment and when she had sufficiently gathered herself, she dutifully tried to move away – only to realise that he wasn't making any indication of letting her go anytime soon.

"Uh, Blaine? You can let go now."

"Not until I see a genuine smile."

She laughed into his shoulder, hitting him lightly in the back. He grinned and finally released her, pulling back to meet her face.

"Or a giggle. That works well too."

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips was faithfully real.

"I ordered you a soy latte," he informed her needlessly as they moved along the counter to pick up their drinks. They knew each other's coffee orders inside out by now anyway – it had become an established ritual of theirs.

"Thanks."

Clutching their hot beverages, the two friends made their way over to an empty table and sat down.

"So," Blaine began conversationally, prying the lid off his own coffee and stirring in the obligatory shot of sugar. "Not that I don't love being summoned out of the house for emergency caffeine, but is there any particular reason for the late night sympathy shoulder?"

It was a redundant question and they both knew it, but she let it hang in the air for a moment all the same.

"Is this about the show?" he pressed gently, taking a sip as he waited for her to share what she'd come to talk about.

"No. Well… not really." Rachel sighed as she struggled to air her thoughts. "You know what Artie said the other day in rehearsal?"

"About to ability to convincingly project romantic passion being directly dependant upon personal sexual experience?" He frowned. "Yeah, that little nugget of wisdom."

She could tell by his tone that he held far more scepticism over such advice than she had, for which she envied him. "Do you think he had a point?"

"Depends," he said thoughtfully. "I think there is certainly a danger from being too sheltered as an artist. All creativity stems from experience to some degree. But I don't believe the lack of experience of a specific situation is fundamentally detrimental to portraying it. Acting is all based on imagination and emotion – as long as you have the skill to tap into both of those, then nothing is theoretically outside the realms of your capabilities."

Rachel reflected on his answer with a small nod, wondering why she had never thought to see it that way before. Maybe her gaze really was too narrow. But then again, Blaine always did have a uniquely eloquent way with words. "Makes sense when you say it," she said with a reluctant smile.

He laughed. "Well, that's just one perspective. Feel free to make up your own mind." Leaning back in his chair, he eyed her curiously. "Is that what's been bothering you?"

"That," she admitted quietly. "And some other things." Suddenly exhausted, Rachel slumped over her coffee with a low groan, muttering into her hands. "God, I've really screwed things up."

Raising an eyebrow, Blaine waited patiently for further elaboration. When none was forthcoming, he cleared his throat pointedly.

"Okay, honey, I'm going to need a little more information to be of any use here."

Lifting her head up as if it weighed a ton, Rachel blew out a long breath. Tearing open a sugar packet and dragging a stirrer through her cup miserably, she proceeded to recount the whole sorry affair of the past few days, up to and including the anticlimactic ending to her evening with Finn just a few hours ago.

Blaine listened carefully, a sympathetic frown on his face as he let her pour her heart out, knowing she needed to get it off her chest. When she was finished, he offered her a reassuring smile, one full of mutual understanding.

"Sounds to me like you just changed your mind, that's all. Which you are more than entitled to do, by the way. You can't blame yourself for that or for not understanding why. It's not something that requires justification and it doesn't mean you won't feel differently at some point in the future. It's a big step to take and second thoughts are way more common than you might think, believe me. Finn would _never _hold that against you."

"Hmm," she murmured evasively, not entirely convinced.

"Hey," he continued, leaning forward with a confidential quirk of a grin. "_I_ got wasted and tried to drag Kurt into the backseat of a car in the parking lot of a gay bar, so I wouldn't feel too bad about _your _little misadventure."

A half-hearted smile flickered on her lips, though the amusement was tempered somewhat by the thought of her absentee friend. Truthfully, at that moment, Rachel didn't even care about the elections anymore – she only wanted Kurt to get over his stupid pride and just forgive her. She wanted to be able to pick up the phone again and call him just because she felt like it, to text him incessantly through _American Idol_ and critique every performance and outfit with him in a debate that would usually last for at least an hour after the show had finished. She wanted her best friend back. She needed _one_ thing in her life that wasn't mired in confusion.

Blaine seemed to sense this depressing train of her thoughts, and quickly brought their conversation back to his main point.

"Look, so we both had less than perfect first attempts. It's not the end of the world."

Rachel shrugged noncommittally, still staring down into her drink, tracing the rim absently with the pad of her thumb.

"You love him, right?"

"Of course I do," she replied automatically.

"Then stop beating yourself up," he insisted, leaning across the table to squeeze her hand. "You'll know when it feels right."

_What if it never feels right?_

Rachel bit her tongue sharply against the rogue voice and managed a vague nod in response. She didn't know where such a thought had come from and she was determined to crush it before it could even consider taking root. And yet she found herself hesitating, the question falling from her lips almost without permission, nearly too soft to catch.

"Have you ever found yourself thinking about… someone else?"

To her surprise, Blaine's gaze turned troubled and he slouched back with a weary sigh.

"Now there's a loaded question."

At her raised eyebrow, he offered a tight smile and briefly filled her in on the visit back to Dalton and his encounter with a certain new Warbler.

"I mean, I can understand Kurt's feelings up to a point, I really can. We're all guilty of jealousy and insecurity sometimes; it's a part of life. But if I've told him once, I've told him a hundred times… I just don't know how to make him believe me." There was a note of bitter helplessness in his voice that Rachel had never heard before, and she realised just how real the fear of losing Kurt was for him, how much it scared him.

"That boy can be a real stubborn pain in the ass, can't he?" she agreed with a teasing grin. "But I suppose that's why we love him so much."

Blaine laughed, and the sound broke the tension that had fallen over their little table. "Cheers to that," he said and they tapped their cups together with a smile as they raised a toast to impossible boys everywhere.

Taking a long drink, Rachel pushed aside the now empty plastic container and noticed that Blaine's expression had turned thoughtful again. He caught the question in her eyes and let out a quiet breath.

"I guess the bottom line is that attraction to others is natural and is always going to be there. You just have to make sure you're fighting for what counts. Sebastian's a player. I know that. This is all a game to him, the hunt of seduction." He shrugged. "Some people are just like that. It's all about the chase, the thrill of getting what you want at whatever cost, and if you can break up true happiness along the way – so much the better."

Rachel frowned as she contemplated Blaine's words, a stinging knot forming in her throat as she realised just how right he was. He had managed to perfectly sum up and pinpoint the harsh reality of her own wretched situation, even if he didn't know it, even if he didn't mean to.

The parallels were uncanny really.

That was exactly what was going on, what this whole damn charade was all about. How could she have been so stupid to think there was ever any shred of sincerity in that boy, any capacity for genuine remorse or will to change. The truth was that Jesse was playing his own game, just like always, trying to ruin her and Finn just for the thrill of it. It was who he was, it was how he worked. He wanted the dream, the chase, the elusive temptation of what he couldn't have. She was inaccessible to him, and that was the only reason he had ever bothered to look her way again. She'd snubbed him in New York and he couldn't stand it. It was a pride thing. It was all about _winning_. Again. A sick, twisted, fucked up game… and she had let it get to her. Rachel felt angry all of a sudden – with him, with _herself, _furious that she had ever allowed his presence to have any effect on her. All he cared about was breaking up her relationship, not about _her _at all. It was never about her. It was revenge, a personal entertainment kick, and that was all.

And yet the surge of resentment was all too soon washed away by the tides of weariness that crept persistently over her. It wasn't actually that late, but she was completely emotionally exhausted, her mind blurred and heavy with the weight of churning thoughts. And in the wake of her retreating anger came the assault of far more unpredictable emotions. Rachel panicked as she felt the terrifying crush of tears stir behind her eyes, rushing up to fill the void, and she desperately forced her mind anywhere else.

Blaine noticed her stifle a yawn behind her hand and smiled.

"It doesn't say much for the stimulant effect of this establishment's special brew – but I do believe, my dear, that you are minutes from falling asleep on me."

Rachel scoffed, but yawned again before she could retort. Blaine just laughed and stood up, reaching out a hand and hauling his companion up to her feet, cheerfully ignoring her stream of indignant protests.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Your chariot awaits."

_/o/_

"You know what? I think the fabric conditioning on those costumes is bringing my dermatitis back again," Kurt declared, frowning at the back of his hand with avid concern. "Maybe I should start wearing my moisturising gloves to rehearsal. What do you think?"

"Either that or you could just talk to Miss Pillsbury and ask her if she could use non-bio on your outfit."

"Hmm, I suppose," he admitted reluctantly, before quickly perking up again. "Hey, are we still on for the _Cabaret_ matinee at the Cameo tomorrow?"

"Sure," Blaine murmured absently, rubbing a hand across his tired eyes and fighting the urge to yawn.

"Sorry if I'm boring you."

"Shut up," he scolded with a smile, shoving his shoulder affectionately. "I was up late, that's all. Rachel made a last minute, unscheduled _friend-in-need_ call."

Kurt frowned in concern. "Is she okay?"

He sighed. "I hope so. Just a bit upset and confused, I think."

"Oh," Kurt mumbled, glancing away guiltily.

Blaine saw the expression on his face and a weary smile of frustration crossed his lips. "Don't worry, it wasn't about you. Although that situation is hardly helping things either."

Kurt bristled defensively. "Hey, she's the one who threw down the gauntlet. What do you expect me to do?"

"Oh, I don't know – maybe try and be an adult about it?"

Kurt scowled and Blaine held up an appeasing hand. "All I'm saying is you could try easing up on her. This freeze out is only hurting both of you. You know she didn't enter the race out of spite. _You're _the one who made the ultimatum of friends or rivals."

"Yeah, because she _knew _how important this is to me. Not just for the NYADA application, but as a chance to really make a difference for kids like me in this school. She didn't need to horn in on this, like she does with _everything_ else."

Blaine sent his boyfriend a stern look of disapproval. "You don't want to lose a good friend over this. Just look at what happened with Mercedes – do you really want to lose Rachel too?" At Kurt's stubborn silence, he pushed on pointedly. "_I _love you," he said with a smile, "but there aren't a lot of people out there who would put up with either of you without some heavy bribery. You're something pretty special to each other – don't give up on that too quickly."

"But she's campaigning against me –"

"You guys fight each other out for solos all the time," he interrupted firmly. "The artistic community is small and you're always going to be in competition with each other. But you'll never find anyone else who understands you better either. You can't fall out every time you're up against a friend for a coveted role. Find a way around it."

Kurt rolled his eyes but Blaine put a hand on his shoulder. "Just try, okay?"

He gave a grudging smile. "You're lucky you're cute," he said with a grin, making Blaine laugh as the boys headed around the corner before parting at the doorway to Kurt's math class.

_/o/_

Most of the core cast were already assembled when Rachel showed up at the auditorium, dumping her bag into an empty seat and slipping onto the stage to join the activity of preparation. They were rehearsing some of the group numbers today and the floor was busy with the chatter and press of her fellow teammates.

"You're late."

She stiffened at the blunt reprimand. Glancing over irritably, she found that he hadn't even bothered to turn to look at her, still flicking through the sheets of music in his hand. She threw a glare at the side of his head.

"I had a late night," she retorted coolly. Turning sharply on her heel, she resumed her path across the stage, missing the way his back tensed in response to her careless quip.

She was just finishing her warm up exercises when Tina found her. Her friend's face was both concerned and excited as she weaved her way around the mill of bodies and rushed up to Rachel.

"So?"

"So?" she repeated dumbly for a second, confused at the sentence fragment.

Rolling her eyes impatiently, Tina grabbed her hand and pulled her over towards the wings. She lowered her voice confidentially, her eyes bright and keen as she studied her friend.

"So, how did it go with Finn?"

"Oh," Rachel mumbled, mentally wincing. She managed to force a smile as she looked into Tina's eager face, the words slipping from her almost without thinking. "Yeah, it – it was great." She hastily composed her expression, hoping the spark of her smile would hide the dull confusion in her eyes. "It was perfect."

"Oh, Rach," Tina hushed happily, catching her in a quick hug.

Rachel returned the embrace distractedly, her smile slipping. What was happening to her? She was turning into a compulsive liar. She didn't know why she said it; maybe it was simply safer to leave the illusion unbroken. Let them think what they wanted. Whatever happened – or _didn't _happen – last night was between her and Finn, nothing to do with anyone else.

On the other side of the wings, Jesse straightened up slowly, the box of set props left forgotten at his feet. As the murmur of familiar voices and patter of footsteps retreated into the crowd once more, he remained still, his face impassive and muscles locked in careful control.

He didn't know how long he stood there, but when it finally buckled and caved, he felt it all the way down to his bones.

Abruptly wrenching his eyes open, he turned in one ripple of taught movement and walked away in silence, his features shadowed under a dark and violent storm cloud.

"Hey," Artie swivelled in his chair, calling after him. "Jesse, where are you going? We've still got –" He was cut off however as the other boy stormed out, not bothering to respond or even slow down as he slammed the door shut behind him. Artie blinked at the force of his exit, staring at the fire door for a long moment before blowing out a sigh, shaking his head.

"Gee, that guy really is such a people person."

**~o~**

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong> To be honest, I really wasn't sure if I was going to be able to come back to _Glee_ after discovering what a tragic farce the third season has become, but I think I just needed some time to calm down! I have now abandoned canon completely and cut all emotional loyalties to the Rachel imposter on my screen. However, the _real_ Rachel from Season One has been begging and hounding me to try and give her the ending she deserves - and so here I am. I can't help it, I will be a die-hard St. Berry shipper to the bitter end and these characters just will _not_ leave me alone! So RIB can suck it.

So, onto the chapter. I should point out that WSS is going to be a longer story arc in this season AU, not done and dusted in a single episode. This was also my first time really writing a few of the other glee characters, especially Kurt and Blaine, but I think I rather enjoyed it :) Oh yeah, and I should probably state a general disclaimer that some dialogue of this is obviously taken from _'The First Time'_ and the same goes for pretty much every other chapter in this fic. Also, I think this is possibly the longest chapter I've ever posted! I'm trying to stick to one chapter per episode, but if it keeps on like this, I might have to start breaking them up. As for the little cliff hanger - well, I couldn't be _too_ kind, could I?

Thanks so much to everyone who has voiced their support, both here and on my other fics. I can't say how much I appreciate it, you guys help push me to keep going! I also want to say thanks for your patience. I realise updates are sometimes few and far between, but it's just the way I write unfortunately, and it annoys me as much as you. More, actually. Sitting down and just getting it all out on paper (or screen) is like squeezing blood from a stone at times.

Anyway, I'll shut up now and just say thanks for reading. And, as ever, I love hearing what you think :)


	6. Solace In A Storm

**Getting It Right – Solace In A Storm**

* * *

><p>"I'm telling you, I saw him."<p>

"And I'm telling you, that's not his car."

"How the hell would you know?"

"It's pretty hard to miss the most expensive car in school."

Rachel clenched her jaw, gripping her fingers around the edge of her seat with white knuckles in all the effort it took to stop herself from passing comment. Or worse still – from getting up to look too. Her body was rigid in restraint, her head locked facing the front of the classroom as she tried valiantly to ignore the conversation of her teammates going on behind her.

"He's definitely not been back," Tina said, craning her neck to peer out the high rear windows, almost nudging Rory off his chair in the process. "Did anyone speak to Shelby?"

"Ditching us for the competition, huh? How very true to form."

"Shut up. You don't know that."

"Yeah right. It was inevitable. Once a traitor, always a trait – ow!"

Kurt elbowed Puck sharply in the ribs, casting a _not-so-subtle_ look at the back of Rachel's head when the boy turned an angry scowl on him. Puck looked between the estranged friends with an irritated frown before shrugging it off and dropping back down into his seat again, knocking off Kurt's hat with a fly flick of his hand on the way.

There was a scuffle of feet and chairs as the others jumped down from the back of the classroom at the arrival of their teacher a moment later. A mixture of expressions met Will's eager smile as he strode into the choir room with a rare look of purpose, clapping his hands together in anticipation. However, he was interrupted before he got the chance to even begin the obligatory inspiring speech of the day.

"Mr. Schue, you haven't heard from Jesse, have you?" Blaine cast a quick look around his fellow teammates and cast members as he spoke, wary apprehension etched across his face. "That's two days now he's missed rehearsals."

Will faltered at the sombre tone of the question, confused and surprised that his team's thoughts should be so distracted when the first annual McKinley _Mash-Off_ was only a few days away. He frowned, his answer hesitant.

"Well, no –"

"You don't think he's switched sides do you?" Tina asked anxiously. "He was Shelby's protégé after all, and the Troubletones seem determined to steal away as many of our assets as possible."

Rachel glanced over at that, her brows drawing together in soft curiosity. She was genuinely surprised by the nervous misgivings shared by her teammates at the prospect of Jesse's desertion. That they were actually capable of recognising his talent and the advantages he could offer them. They apparently appreciated his contribution more than they let on. Not that that was anything new, she thought tiredly. Her team never did admit praise unless it wrenched grudgingly from them at the last possible _make-or-break_ moment. Still, it was intriguing and Rachel was quietly impressed that despite everything that had happened, despite all the lingering bad feeling – Jesse had still managed to forge a place and authority of respect for himself amongst the enemy.

That was an exceptional talent in itself, and she truly hadn't thought he possessed the commitment to pull off such a feat. A wry smile stirred on her lips. A boy of many masks indeed.

The smile quickly faded however, replaced with a familiar flutter of unease in her stomach. She may well resent it, but she couldn't help but feel distinctly troubled by his persistent no-show. Jesse was too much like her, and Rachel knew that he would _never_ miss a rehearsal without a damn good reason. And that thought alone was enough to send her mind racing with worry. Still, the last thing she was going to do was voice such concerns out loud.

"No, trust me, he's around guys," Will assured, casting a firm look at them all in a way that was clearly meant to lay their doubts to rest and settle the point. "But we don't need him for this assignment –"

"We don't need him for _anything,_" Finn grumbled under his breath.

Rachel frowned in exasperation but did her best to hide it. Sulking really wasn't her boyfriend's most attractive quality and yet it was becoming increasingly common around this subject. Okay, she had pretty much accepted that the animosity between Finn and Jesse was never going to completely go away. But while pride was one thing, she couldn't shake the feeling that Finn's behaviour was creeping towards just plain petty now, arguing just for the sake of it. And the general reaction of the team to Jesse's disappearance seemed to only annoy him further. Rachel could feel the tension in his arm that rested across her shoulders, could sense him shifting in his seat beside her like an agitated child, stewing with irritation.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she glanced away to her other side and glimpsed Quinn where she sat up the back of the classroom. The former Cheerio's head was lowered, the tips of her cropped hair brushing her bare shoulders and the cream pleats of her skirt barely skimming her knees as she neatly crossed her legs. Her gaze was cast down as she flicked through her phone with a bored expression, looking entirely unbothered by the ongoing conversation. Snapping her head to the front again, Rachel straightened up stubbornly, determined to drive her thoughts as far away from Jesse and his conspicuous absence as possible.

"Look guys, we have our work cut out for us this week with this mash up. Now, the Troubletones have a lot of powerful voices, so song selection is key here…"

Mr. Schue was talking in earnest now but Rachel wasn't really listening. As her teammates all proceeded to pipe up with various artist suggestions for the impending clash with their rivals, she had almost completely zoned out of the debate. Biting down on her lip, she tried to cast off the frustrating sense of disquiet – her gaze straying with a reluctant regularity to the empty chair at the end of the row.

_/o/_

The gymnasium felt cavernous in the quiet of the aftermath. All was still and calm now, falling under the restful spell of the fading evening light, the atmosphere almost melancholy in reflection. No more shouts or sickly thuds of impact, battle songs and jeers banished into silence once more, until only the soft squeak of solitary footsteps could be heard.

Kurt frowned as he kicked aside a stray dodge ball that had somehow escaped the clear up. It bounced harmlessly off the wall and proceeded to roll idly back to his feet, following after him like a lost dog in blatant disregard to his chagrin. Huffing under his breath and letting his bag drop to the floor, he bent down and scooped up their weapon of choice, giving it a look of venomous distaste as he did so. Standing again, he turned dutifully towards the storage cupboard, only to stop short as a flash of red caught his eye across the great hall.

He hesitated at the sight of the familiar figure that greeted him.

Her increasingly long raven hair had been pulled free from its pigtails and flowed loosely over her shoulders, her arms tucked under her knees almost protectively, as if she was trying to make herself as small as possible. She was still wearing their sports uniform as she sat alone up on the steps, gazing out onto the floor below with a distant expression, clearly lost in her thoughts – and not too happy ones by the look of it. Her brows were creased under the shadow of a raincloud and her teeth gently worried her lower lip in that distracted habit she had.

After a moment, she seemed to become aware of his gaze and glanced over in his direction, meeting his eyes for a brief moment across the court. The battle field that lay abandoned now, all expect for two wounded survivors. She quickly looked away again, seeming to slump a little lower over her knees.

Kurt sighed and resumed his path, shoving the last of the dodge balls into the bag and closing the equipment cupboard a little harder than he meant to. He saw her flinch out of the corner of his eye at the echoing bang, and mentally cursed himself. He wasn't trying to make her feel worse, he really wasn't. He was just frustrated. It felt like he was being torn between the demand of his pride and tug of his heart – and he was getting sick of it. He lowered his head, closing his eyes tiredly as their last conversation played through his mind again.

"_I really miss you, Kurt. And I just… I really want to be your friend again."_

"_Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you walked all over me in your borderline sociopathic climb to the top."_

He grimaced at the memory of the hurt that had covered her expression at his retort, as he took her olive branch and snapped it in front of her face before gleefully setting it on fire. Maybe Blaine was right. The truth was that Kurt really didn't like who this feud was turning him into.

Blowing out a grumpy breath, he rolled his eyes and spun on his heel. Rachel blinked as she watched him march across the gymnasium, stomping noisily up the rows of seats until he finally dropped down onto the bench behind her. She didn't turn around, nor did he speak. They merely sat in uneasy quiet for a long moment, Rachel apprehensive and still stung from his earlier brush off, Kurt not having thought out a plan much beyond this point.

He realised he was still glowering and made an effort to clear his expression, even though she couldn't see it from where she sat in front of him. He opened his mouth and then shut it again, irritated by his sudden lack of snappy dialogue and the sense of awkwardness that hovered in the air. He had never been very good at this sort of thing. It was a trait they shared.

She straightened up then and winced in the tentative gesture. Her hand strayed to her shoulder and squeezed in an effort to ease the twinge of pain, though she remained silent in her discomfort. Kurt frowned and reached for his bag where it sat at his feet, rummaging for a moment before deftly pulling out a small gel pack, no bigger than his palm. "Here," he muttered, cracking the pack in his hand and sweeping her hair aside.

Rachel felt a soothing heat begin to seep through her skin a moment later, radiating out from where he pressed his hand to the back of her shoulder. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth ease away the dull aching, relaxing the tension in more ways than one.

"You came prepared," she noted at last, raising her eyebrows.

Kurt shrugged. "You can't help but pick up a few things living with the school quarterback. Mainly that helmets do _nothing _for your hair and that there's a very fine line between a good tackle and felonious assault. And also that heat can sometimes be better than ice when it comes to muscle ache."

Rachel bit her lip in a smile. "Thanks," she mumbled.

They sat in quiet for a moment longer before he spoke again, a sincerity in his tone that was almost as warm as the pack on her skin. "You okay?"

"Just a bit sore," she admitted. "Those girls have a feral arm when it comes to power shots."

"Feral is right."

"Told you it would get brutal."

"Yeah," he said, and she could hear a familiar tease touching his voice. "I saw you protecting that precious schnoz of yours like it was the crown jewels."

"Hey, one broken nose was enough thank you," she retorted a little indignantly, flushing in embarrassment.

"Glad to hear it. It's your beauty trademark after all." He nudged her with pointed affection and she laughed, vividly reminded of the surreal tribute performance to her idol in a crowded mall so many months ago. The memory never failed to make her smile in its ridiculousness. He had gone to such lengths to bring back her self-confidence, knowing how to reach her in a way no-one else had. And of course he would do it through song – with a little help from Barbra, naturally.

Rachel was drawn from her reverie as another twinge shot through her neck, bringing her thoughts sharply back to the present. Her expression sobered as her eyes fell to the ground, wincing with a guilt that wasn't hers to carry.

"How's Rory?" she asked quietly.

She heard him sigh over her shoulder. "He's okay. Little shaken up but he'll live." She could just picture the frown of disapproval on his face as he carried on with fresh determination. "They really should ban that game. It's just an excuse to be violent and hound others in persecution."

"New campaign slogan?" she teased hesitantly.

"Maybe."

They retreated into silence then, both pulled into a bout of reluctant and painful memories. Finally, Kurt let out a deep breath in defeat, Blaine's words echoing in his ears with a persistent clarity and leading the mutiny over his better judgement. Damn that boy and his cripplingly eloquent insights.

"I miss you too."

His hand fell away from her shoulder as she turned around at his words, meeting his gaze with such nervous hope and scrutiny that he couldn't help but smile.

"You do?"

"Of course I do, you idiot," he muttered in exasperation. "Who else is going to break into a Broadway theatre with me? Be the Barbra to my Judy? Let me bitch and cry to my heart's content and sing ballads down the phone to me in the middle of the night? I miss your special brand of crazy so much it hurts."

Rachel rolled her eyes even as she beamed at him. "Oh, you romantic."

He smiled, catching her gaze with a warm, if grudging, contrition. "I'm sorry I was a dick before."

"I'm sorry too," she returned earnestly. "You know I didn't join the race to hurt you –"

"I know. I was just being a stubborn pill about it."

"Well, you might have had a bit of a point," Rachel conceded, lowering her gaze awkwardly. "Sometimes I get so lost in reaching for the top, in being the best I can possibly be, that I can overlook other people's feelings."

"Yes," he agreed with a long-suffering sigh, "but that's also one of your most admirable qualities and, frankly, you just wouldn't be Rachel Berry otherwise. And I'm afraid I'm simply doomed to adore you – warts and all."

She pulled a face. "Charming."

Kurt grinned, before shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, maybe I'm a little guilty of that too."

"Hmm, maybe," she teased.

"I suppose there's nothing wrong with a little healthy competition," he declared magnanimously, holding out a hand of truce. However, Rachel ignored it and instead grabbed him into a hug with so much force that they almost toppled over on the benches.

"I missed your crazy too," she mumbled, pressing her smile into his shoulder. "You're the only one who can make me look normal by comparison."

"You wish," Kurt retorted, squeezing her tight in their fierce embrace. "And I'm still gonna beat you."

Rachel laughed, her heart feeling truly light for the first real time in what felt like weeks.

_/o/_

The rhythmic tap of the pencil against her notepad echoed her restlessness as she sighed and flipped the sheet music over. Adding it to the stack to her left, she reached for another one from the extensive pile she had brought to the table. Raising her head she cast a furtive look over to the checkout desk, hoping she hadn't pushed her luck too far despite knowing how the staff favoured her. She had pretty much hijacked this entire section of the library after all. Yet she had become such a regular over the past year or so that she was afforded an indulgence most other patrons did not receive. It was still the best place to come for research, and one of her favourite haunts by far. A soft smile crossed her lips as she let her gaze roam over the shelves around her, stacked high to the ceiling with every genre of music imaginable. There was just such a sense of comfort here.

However, the smile slipped as her eyes wandered unwillingly back to the old, worn piano that sat in the centre of the open floor. It was quiet now, merely a prop of interest once more, and yet Rachel shivered at the whisper of music that filled her head. The first time their voices had ever met in song, the first time he had spoken her name with that arrogant lilt in his voice and knowing smile on his lips, an alluring ambiguity that had intrigued her from the start. The first time she had felt such a raw familiarity of instinct under their duet, the first time she had held his eyes and forgotten how to breathe for just a moment. Where, under orders, he had found his unsuspecting ingénue and their whole wretched story had begun. The opening act of seduction in their own Shakespearean tragedy.

Shaking away the painful memories that haunted her sanctuary, Rachel returned her attention to the sheet music that lay in front of her, examining them with a frown of concentration that was bordering on impatience. She had been tucked away at this corner table for the better part of an hour as she worked her way studiously through an array of music books, picking up tips and scouting for inspiration, and yet had made little progress in a plan of action for their upcoming mash up. She wasn't really a fan of Hall & Oates and she just knew that they would need to up their game considerably in order to beat Shelby – who would make sure that the Troubletones were nothing less than a lethal machine of tight co-ordination and vocals. Rachel knew what Finn was trying to say but… She sighed in weary frustration. Glee wasn't _just_ about fun and making pithy comments through random song selection. This was still a competition, interschool or not, and they needed to take it seriously.

A hesitant frown slowly crossed her face, a dulled pain echoing in her eyes, as her thoughts reluctantly lingered over their rival glee club coach. Her gaze strayed to the school bag that sat beside her, to the college application that lay within, neatly completed and ready to be sent off. Well, almost. That troublesome recommendation letter was weighing far too heavily on her mind, taunting her with indecision, and time was running out.

She still hadn't given it to Shelby, and to be honest she wasn't sure if she ultimately would. The truth was that things were still silently strained in that particular relationship, the distance between them crowded with words and tensions that they could never seem to reach through. While both went to great effort to cover the enduring awkwardness around each other, it mainly consisted of talking a lot and yet saying nothing of any substance. After all, it was mutually accepted that they had to co-exist for the time being and it made sense to try and make it as painless as possible.

Rachel let out a deep breath, twiddling the pencil between her fingers as she argued stubbornly with herself. She knew that Shelby was the best and most obvious choice, she was a national champion choir coach after all and her recommendation would hold a lot of sway. Getting into NYADA was what mattered, was more important than whatever conflicted feelings she may harbour. But somehow, Rachel just couldn't bring herself to ask her for it. She told herself she was being stupid, talking herself in and out of it so many times that she was getting a headache. The letter was already written, all Shelby had to do was sign it. The whole encounter would probably take less than a minute. That wasn't more than she could handle. Yet, it just didn't feel right when there was still so much unresolved between them. It was frustrating and upsetting and ground inside Rachel's mind like rusty gears. A cog that would never fit.

She was abruptly snapped from her melancholy thoughts by the bursting chords of _Broadway Baby_. Crap, she had totally forgotten to put it on vibrate. Scrambling for her bag, she hastily pulled out her cell phone, cutting off Bernadette Peters' enviable pipes with a silent apology.

"Hey," she greeted in a hushed voice, doing her best to avoid attracting further attention towards her corner. However the person at the other end was unconcerned with any preamble, coming straight to the point.

"You didn't drop out of the race for me, did you?"

Nice to know he was still as blunt and tactless as ever. She could hear the resentment in his tone, and just knew how pissed off he was. She hadn't even made it official yet but she should have _known_ that Blaine was the wrong person to confide in about it. That boy was such a gossip. She rolled her eyes.

"Of course not. You know me better than that. Besides, you'd kill me if I tried to throw you a pity vote."

"Quite right," he agreed emphatically, making her smile. There was a pause and she could hear his tone softening when he spoke again. "So…why then?"

Rachel shrugged, sighing as she tried to explain. "I just realised that I had enough on my plate. There was a serious danger of over-stretching myself and I just couldn't risk the possibility of my performance in the musical suffering. Not to mention all the work involved in taking on that starring solo at Nationals."

"Excuse me? Can you say jumping the gun?"

"Oh, you know it's inevitable. Learn to be gracious about it."

Kurt laughed and she grinned, revelling in the sound she had missed so much.

"Besides," she went on, "I know it…it means more to you."

"You mean as more than just another accolade on a college transcript? Yeah."

Rachel pursed her lips but held back the retort, knowing she deserved the dig and willing to let it go. This time.

"You'd better work your ass off to get into NYADA," she told him firmly, leaving no room for doubt on the subject. "There will be a very Kurt Hummel sized hole in my New York dreams otherwise. It just won't be the same without you."

"Oh, I'll be there," he assured, grinning through the phone. "Someone has to keep an eye on you."

Rachel smiled but was soon forced to bid goodbye, noticing the looks of disapproval some of the other patrons were casting her way. Kurt promised to call her later before the friends dutifully hung up and Rachel slipped her phone away again. As her stomach growled hungrily, she suddenly realised how close to dinner time it must be. Deciding to give up the research for the day, she gathered up the various books and music sheets and set about returning them to the shelves.

Hoisting her bag onto her shoulder, she turned for home, nodding to the staff behind the counter as she did. Her steps slowed as she passed the piano however, the familiar instrument drawing her gaze against her will as lost whispers echoed through her mind. She paused only to let her hand wander along the surface, brushing her fingers over the ivory keys almost affectionately, before she caught herself and quickly moved away. Pressing her lips together, she nearly knocked into several people as she rushed out of the library, as if desperate to outrun the ghosts of her own mind.

_/o/_

The bar was busy for the evening, dark and noisy with the press of people, and he drank in the mindless chat and laughter with a sense of bitter gratefulness. The last thing he wanted was to dwell on his own thoughts right now, which were anything but kind and forgiving. Some top 40 hit was playing in the background, barely audible over the murmur of voices. Someone knocked his shoulder as they pushed past but he barely noticed, not even sparing a glance up at the slurred apology that was muttered. Pushing aside the empty beer bottle, he picked up the glass under his hand and knocked the contents back in one shot, grimacing as the acid tongue of liquor burned down his throat. Jesse _loathed _tequila, always had, but it seemed as good a poison as any.

Dropping the glass back down to the counter, he signalled to the bartender with a lazy flick of his hand. His phone was quiet in his pocket but that was hardly a surprise. He only ever gave his number out to a select few and he wasn't expecting to hear from any of them after recent events. He was pretty much past the point of caring right now anyway, concerned only with getting lost in the crowd for once. And while mixing with the masses was hardly his favourite pastime, he had always known how to drop off the radar when it suited him.

He didn't bother to look up as the bartender finally worked his way over to him to take his order, however he did stir when he heard his name spoken in something like friendly surprise.

"Jesse St. James?"

He frowned at the young guy in front of him, trying to place his face as he was clearly meant to know him, judging by the familiarity in his tone. The bartender flashed a toothy grin as he refilled the shot glass, clearing away the empties before cocking his head like a puzzled dog as he studied Jesse with fresh interest.

"Man, I never thought I'd see you back in Ohio."

Recognition flickered dimly in the back of Jesse's mind. He could vaguely recall meeting this guy before back in Carmel, probably quite a few times. He had been the boyfriend of one of the girls in VA, if memory served him right. Dan? Sam? He gave up, dismissing it with a mental shrug. He couldn't even blame it on the alcohol; he'd never paid much attention to those he didn't strictly have to.

"Yeah, you and me both."

The guy regarded him curiously as he continued to work. "So what are you doing here? Besides drowning your sorrows," he added wryly, gesturing towards the shot glass he had just poured out.

"Honestly?" A mirthless smile tugged Jesse's lips. "I have no fucking idea."

His old acquaintance offered what Jesse assumed was supposed to be a sympathetic look. "Let me guess, some girl break your heart or something?"

A grim smile tightened his lips. "Or something." He tipped his glass in the bartender's direction. "To your health, huh?" Swallowing down the shot without so much as a flinch, he dropped a few notes onto the bar and stood up to leave.

"Hey, Jesse –"

He spared a glance over his shoulder as he heard his name called. There was a shadow of concern in the other guy's eyes as they met his.

"You gonna be alright, man?"

"I always am," Jesse muttered under his breath as he walked away.

_/o/_

He probably shouldn't have driven, but he didn't much care at that moment. Hell, he'd done stupider things, he reflected bitterly.

She answered the door on the second knock, before stepping back slightly at the sight that greeted her. She was surprised to see him, he could tell, although she was quick to control the reaction.

"What are you doing here?"

He ignored the question, instead striding past her and into the house. He swept a cursory glance over the rooms beyond as he spoke, not meeting her eyes.

"Where's your mom?"

"Out for the night," she answered slowly, frowning.

"Good," he murmured in a low voice.

Her frown deepened but before she could inquire any further, he turned and abruptly crushed his mouth to hers, fusing them together in the exploding heat of a desperation that had finally broken to the surface. The kiss was recklessly hard and rough and unlike anything she had experienced from him so far, the force of his actions catching her off guard before she could even voice an opinion to the sudden and aggressive move. His arms snaked around her body, yanking her close against him, his fingers gripping into the roots of her hair as her mouth parted willingly for him, a liberty he exploited to full advantage. Quinn could taste the sharp tang of alcohol in his kiss, but the focus of his grip on her body suggested he was more than lucid enough to take ownership of his actions. She wasn't sure which thought unsettled her more.

She moaned into his mouth, the pressure becoming painful. Winding her own fingers into his hair, she used the leverage to break the kiss, forcing their lips apart just enough to replenish the sudden lack of air in her lungs.

"Is this you getting even?" she demanded when she could find her voice again, trying to pull back enough to meet his eyes but he wouldn't let her.

His hands worked their way under the silk of her shirt, digging in hard to the small of her back and trapping her firmly against him. "Do you care?" he challenged, his breath harsh across her lips. Their faces were so close they were touching, along with every other part of their bodies. Quinn gasped at the wandering path of his fingers, her eyes fluttering shut, blinding her in the split moment before he caught her mouth again in a bruising kiss.

No, she didn't. He was right. What she did care about though was getting knocked up again. She'd been there, done that, and it was an experience she didn't want to revisit anytime soon. She had learnt her lesson when it came to crucial oversights made in the heat of the moment, and it was a risk she wasn't prepared to take again – no matter how intoxicating the temptation.

As his hands slid over her hips and hers travelled down his chest, she broke the frantic fervour of their kiss once more. "I don't have any –"

"I do."

She raised an eyebrow with a reproving smile. "Ever the opportunist."

He smirked, drawing her mouth back to his to utter the retort against her lips. "Ever the cheerleader."

"So much for redemption, huh?" she breathed huskily, arching her back as he pulled her into him, his mouth slipping lower on her neck to leave fresh wounds over the raw skin. Not that she was complaining, far from it.

Jesse gave a tight shrug, the words burning across her throat like a desert breeze. "We're all going to hell anyway. May as well enjoy the ride."

Quinn grasped the back of his head as he tugged down the collar of her shirt, dragging his lips over the bare skin of her shoulder. There was a brimming tension in his muscles, a fierce bite to his kiss, and she knew that he had finally breached the breaking point of his endurance. She could feel the conflicting emotions crashing within him, the tremor of each heartbreaking collision spreading out through his roving touch. He held her fast to him, a willing captive, the only one able to share such a twisted brand of destruction. They were already falling. She didn't know what made her say it, but she found herself murmuring the fateful words all the same.

"You know she'll never forgive us."

It was a statement, not a question. And it was one he didn't want to hear tonight.

A frustrated, almost angry sound rose from his throat. "Do you really want to talk about this?" he demanded, knotting his fingers so tightly in her hair that she bit back a wince. He grazed his lips up her throat in a dangerous tease. "Because I can think of _far_ better activities for my mouth right now."

Quinn shivered at the smoky promise in his voice, knowing she wouldn't refuse him even if she had wanted to. If he wanted to burn his bridges, that was his business.

"Then put your money where your mouth is," she returned, rising to the challenge with a toying glint in her eyes.

She yanked on his shirt as his mouth fell on hers once more, quickly stripping him of his jacket as they all but tumbled into her bedroom. Her shirt followed his, their mouths barely breaking contact as Jesse pushed them over to the bed. The familiar relief of physicality took over his senses and for a moment he was aware of nothing but the heat of her body, the gloss of her lips and scent of her skin. He dropped his mouth to kiss the swell of her breasts, peeling away the layers between them as her hands fumbled with his jeans, pulling him down over her as they sunk into the bed.

However, the reprieve didn't last long.

Jesse clenched his eyes shut, almost growling under his breath as he violently slammed a door on the traitorous memories that flooded persistently through his mind. Impossibly warm and dark eyes delving into his, the soft silk of her hair beneath his fingers, the secret tease of her song in his ear – each lost sensation broke through his body like a crippling blow, compounding the brutal ache between his ribs. The whisper of her voice and touch almost seemed to pull at his shoulders, gliding across his skin sorrowfully – begging him back, entreating him away.

And he hated it. His shoulders shook with the effort, trembling with resentment. She had no fucking right to be there in his mind, fuelling the guilt and reproach in his heart. Not after what she'd done. What did it even matter anymore…

_No._

Jesse gritted his teeth with pained anger and roughly let go of his thoughts, pouring everything instead into his body and the girl with him. Anything to distract him, to grant him an absolution, however fucked up it was. Tilting his head, he caught Quinn's lips again and didn't let go, deaf to the howls of his heart as it bucked and burned in protest.

_/o/_

Rachel couldn't remember the last time her room was so tidy.

She had been compulsively cleaning and sorting and organising every drawer, file and shelf in her bedroom ever since she had finished dinner over three hours ago. Seeing as how this was an activity she only ever attacked with such fervour when she was particularly worried and stressed, she didn't want to think too much about what this said of her current state of mind.

Sitting at her desk, she was halfway through reorganising the playlists in her iTunes library for second time, when Bernadette Peters piped up again. Jumping up, Rachel rushed over and snatched the cell phone from the covers of her bed, flipping it open before she even had a chance to glance at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

Rachel felt her heart drop in her chest, despite the wonderfully familiar and sorely missed voice that filled her ears. The feeling of uneasy guilt that had been hovering over her for the past few days swept back in again like a blanket of oppressive grey clouds. She just couldn't seem to shake the anxious energy that hounded her, an undefined restlessness she couldn't quite place, and it made her fingers itch with the sudden urge to re-categorise her audition set list collection. However, she suppressed this ridiculous compulsion and quickly mustered an appropriate reply.

"Oh…Yeah, hi."

"As I try not to be offended by the abject disappointment in your voice –" Rachel rolled her eyes at his wounded sigh. In an affectionate sort of way. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"No," she said hastily. "Not really."

"Let me guess, Finn said he'd call and then totally forgot again. Want me to go smack him over the head?"

"No!"

"Really, it's no problem," Kurt assured. "He's just downstairs making an oh-so-culinary cheese toastie. He'll never even see it coming. Maybe he'll even snort juice through his nose again. That was pretty funny."

Rachel laughed, flopping back on the bed and settling down into her usual position she adopted for their nightly chats. Oh, how she'd missed him.

"No, leave the poor boy alone would you?"

"Honey, you know he's useless when there's a game on TV. Don't take his chronic attention span personally."

"I'm fine, honestly. Just a little distracted, but I'm all ears now, I promise."

"Good. Because I've got hot gossip – fresh out of the teacher's lounge."

Rachel raised an eyebrow, sitting up a little straighter in anticipation. "You know, one day you're going to have to tell me who your mole is in the faculty."

"Never," he replied airily, before quickly resuming his story. "Anyway, rumour has it that news has reached Figgins of the so-called _'slap heard round McKinley' _– and that he's none too happy about Santana expressing her emotions quite so vigorously on school grounds. Never mind the litany of verbal assault that's been flying around lately, but _this_ he takes issue with. Jeez, if Santana's insults could draw blood, she would have been arrested by now. Word is there's talk of suspension."

"What?"

"Yeah, apparently we don't tolerate physical abuse at this school," Kurt muttered sarcastically.

"He can't be serious," she exclaimed indignantly, her sense of injustice bristling. "After everything Karofsky did to you last year, Figgins finally decides to get tough on one lash out between friends provoked by an emotional crisis? That's such bullshit."

"Tell me about it. The double standards in our lives shift so much it gives me whiplash. It's like our school legislation is scripted anew each week by a bunch of lazy, dumbass, dope smoking, network writers. As if Santana doesn't have enough to deal with right now."

"Yeah," she mumbled quietly, feeling awkward in her sympathy. As much as she might feel for the cheerleader, it still felt a little uncomfortable to admit it out loud. The fact remained that the girl hadn't exactly made her high school life a pleasant experience. But still…Santana didn't deserve the hell she was putting herself through. The memory of the furtive date she had stumbled upon in BreadstiX suddenly rose through her mind. She had always known Santana was fiercely protective of Brittany, but Rachel had never seen such unconcealed warmth and devotion in the cheerleaders as when they looked at each other. And for some reason, it made her heart ache just a bit.

"You knew, didn't you," she said at last.

"Of course," he answered immediately. "But I never spoke to her about it. Maybe I should have…" he admitted hesitantly, and she could hear the remorse of uncertainty in his voice. "But it was her call to make and I didn't want to make her uncomfortable. I would never push something like that on someone else."

Rachel nodded absently, mentally bracing herself as she suspected she knew what Kurt was going to say next. She wasn't disappointed as she heard him sigh heavily.

"Finn shouldn't have done that."

The truth was that Rachel agreed. Despite all her conflicting feelings towards the Cheerio, she hated the thought of someone being forced into something so personal. She never liked to see anyone hurting, suffering for who they were. No-one deserved that. And yet, she still heard herself trying to defend her boyfriend's actions. She nestled the phone in the crook of her shoulder, trying to ignore the feeling of obligation that weighed down her words.

"She was going after him pretty hard. He just… snapped."

"That's no excuse," Kurt said firmly. "He has _no _idea what kind of damage that kind of outing can cause. He acted no better than a bully when he decided to stoop to such tactics."

"It's not a big deal," Rachel tried to argue, though her conviction was weak and forced. "No-one even cares…"

"_She _cares. It's a big deal for her. It's her life and she has the right to handle it her own way. Finn should have respected that, no matter how provoked he was. He should have appreciated what it meant for her." She could sense Kurt frowning through the phone, his words heavy with an intimacy of pain he could relate with only too well. "Coming out is hard enough. If you're not ready, if it's forced upon you… No-one should have to go through that. He had no right to take that choice away from her. And there are better places than a school corridor for venting some frustration."

Rachel stayed silent, unable to disagree with him. She knew that he and Blaine were mad at Finn, and it was a struggle not to take sides. So she tried changing the subject.

"Well, it'll cause no end of trouble if she does get suspended. Not to mention, it'll totally screw us for the musical. We can't do _West Side Story_ without an Anita. And no-one does fierce and fiery Latina attitude quite like Santana."

"We might be screwed anyway if Jesse doesn't come back," Kurt muttered.

Rachel felt that hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach again. An unnamed ache rocked her somewhere deep inside, as if she had been dropped from a sickening height and forgotten to brace for the impact. She asked before she could stop herself. "Have you seen him?"

"No-one has. Not since he stormed off, prima donna style, the other day. He's just dropped off the map. Think he's bailed on us."

Rachel winced. It went against every rational judgement in her mind, but the truth was that it was a prospect she really didn't want to entertain. The wounds were still too raw from the last time, and she wasn't sure how much more of his toing and froing in and out of her life she could endure. The thought of him leaving, taking off again…

"He better turn up for tomorrow's rehearsal," Kurt grumbled. "I never thought I'd say this, but no-one trains vocals better than he does. I don't think I can take another rehearsal of Miss Pillsbury dancing along in her seat and Coach Beiste trying not to cry through every duet. The standards of the song performances are suffering."

Rachel was quiet, nodding but not really listening anymore. Lowering her gaze, she fiddled with a loose thread on her bed socks, chewing her lip in worried thought. She knew that Jesse had never been easy to read, shifting seamlessly from one mask to the next, but she couldn't help wishing she just had_ some_ idea of what was going on in his head.

_/o/_

Quinn cried out sharply as wave after wave of painful pleasure crashed through her, tensing her body and arching her hips off the bed. Her hands clenched tight into his shoulders, which were equally stiff, the firm muscles knotted in strain as he tumbled over the edge with her a moment later. She grasped at the covers, thrashing out blindly, oblivious to the thud of her clock as it was knocked off its stand and hit the floor.

_"Fuck me,"_ he heaved in a ragged breath as they broke the tide together, shudders wracking them both in the aftermath before they collapsed down into the sheets again.

"I thought I was," she teased breathlessly, struggling to catch her voice again.

Jesse smirked, his mouth hovering over hers, and for a second she thought he would kiss her again. But he didn't. Turning away, he dropped his head onto her shoulder, breathing heavily and letting the taste of her damp skin drown out the aches of his empty heart. For a moment, he just drifted in the blank bliss of pure adrenaline that washed over his body. The anger and bitterness would return, he knew that, but he just didn't have the strength to face it now. Selfish regret was nothing he wasn't used to anyway, he thought darkly.

He could feel her chest pitching erratically under his as she slowly regained her breath, her legs still wrapped tight around his hips, and a knowing smile flickered on his lips.

"Abstinence club my ass."

"You know about that?"

He grinned at the note of surprise in her voice, his hand moving to her thigh to deftly disentangle them. Pulling off her, he turned onto his back and settled lower down on the bed. The distance between their bodies was slight but definite, a subtle line that both accepted implicitly. "I have my ways," he remarked at last. "And so do you," he teased, tilting his head to throw a sly look up at her. "You don't learn tricks like _that _at bible studies."

She smiled innocently. "I read a lot of _Cosmo._"

"Yeah right."

Quinn laughed and let her head fall back against the pillows, stretching out her sore muscles experimentally. She had_ really_ underestimated the power of angry sex, even if the anger wasn't directed at her. A satisfied smile drew her lips. For once, she got to reap the benefits of someone else's mistakes. She closed her eyes, panting softly as she slumped limply against the bed, her body heaving as she strained to regulate her heartbeat to within normal parameters again. She couldn't help but feel a bit bad for Rachel. Girl had _no _idea what she was missing out on. Still, her loss was Quinn's gain – however temporarily.

Jesse cast his gaze about lazily, taking in their surroundings properly for the first time. "So this is Quinn Fabray's bedroom, huh? Interesting. Prom queen meets punk rebel."

She shrugged. "I'm in transition."

"Aren't we all."

The quiet that fell between them was easy and unassuming, both languishing in the sweet exhaustion and taking the time to recover their strength. Finally, Quinn shifted, rolling over to slide open her bedside drawer. Jesse raised an eyebrow as he heard the familiar click of a lighter.

"Thought you'd given up."

Quinn settled back down with a sigh. "They don't call it _addiction _for nothing."

"Very true," he murmured. Reaching over, he idly stole the cigarette from her fingers and brought it to his lips.

"Why don't you just buy your own?" she asked with a pinch of bored irritation.

Jesse smirked. "I'm an opportunist, remember?"

He heard her let out a disgruntled breath and smiled as he took another drag. Exhaling deeply, he dropped his hand to his chest, watching the delicate trail of smoke that rose up and wound into the air. He mentally rolled his eyes to himself. _What a cliché._

"So why do you let them get to you so much?"

He frowned, his knuckles clenching subtly around the cigarette. "You think I'm upset?"

"No, I think you came all the way over to my house and wrestled me into bed because you're perfectly fine." At his sullen silence, she let out a sigh, her tone softening almost imperceptibly. "What's going on with you two?"

_Good question_, he thought bitterly as he raised his hand once more, drawing the acrid kiss of smoke back into his lungs in response. Jesse had always been in control, in one way or another. He'd had a future, he'd had a goddamn plan – until _her_. Until Rachel Berry had come along and thrown his entire world into chaos, unravelling the code he lived by and making him doubt himself for the first time. Forgiveness didn't come easily for Jesse and for a long time, he didn't know who he was angrier at. And yet her song refused to leave him, following him all the way to California and back again, as close to his heart as his own. It had begun with a _'Hello'_, a subverted mission of deception, and Jesse felt as if he had been reeling off into uncontrollable uncertainty ever since.

But apparently, she didn't have the same problem.

He scowled up at the ceiling, his jaw tight with the storm that raged behind his eyes. Maybe them sleeping together had been inevitable, but it still hurt so much more than he had ever anticipated or was prepared to admit.

"I have to ask," he said abruptly, his tone cold and steely in sardonic resentment. "What did you _ever_ see in Hudson? Share the big secret. What is it about him? Because, seriously, I'm at a loss."

Quinn shrugged by way of answer. "He was the quarterback, I was the head cheerleader. It was expected. Besides…" she said, leaning over to take back the lit cigarette from his fingers, a sad nostalgia in her eyes that he couldn't see. "He sorta grows on you after a while."

Jesse scoffed derisively, clearly unconvinced.

Tapping ash into the glass beside her bed, Quinn frowned softly through the mist of smoke that left her lips. Turning her head, she chanced a glance down at the boy who shared her bed, but his gaze was shielded from her – in more ways than one. They weren't her secrets to read. The last barrier of intimacy that couldn't be breached.

"You've been missed."

"I'm sure," he muttered sarcastically.

"You know people are worried that you've gone back to Shelby."

Jesse chuckled darkly. "That'll be the day."

"There's another rehearsal for the musical tomorrow after school." She hesitated, watching him curiously. "Are you coming back?"

Jesse didn't answer, only reaching over to ease the cigarette from her fingers. Quinn sighed but let him take it. It was nearly finished anyway.

"So, what else did I miss?" he said at last, more to change the subject than out of any real interest.

Quinn was quiet a moment before replying. "I asked to join the Troubletones."

"And?"

"She said she's thinking about it."

He smiled. "Of course. Interesting move, but don't underestimate Shelby. She can spot a setup a mile away. Hell, she spends half her life orchestrating them."

"I'm not going to do anything stupid. I just want the chance to get close to Beth. I'm willing to do whatever I have to in order to spend as much time with her that I can. I don't want her to freak out every time I hold her."

Jesse said nothing, taking a long pull in silent consideration as they lay in quiet for a moment.

"Oh, and Kurt wants to ban dodge ball."

He raised an eyebrow, finally turning to look at her as she explained the face off between the groups. The story managed to draw a slight smile from him, though it was overshadowed by the bitter knowing in his eyes. Jesse understood better than anyone just how good Shelby was. She always played a perfect game, knowing when to listen and when to overrule and she would accept nothing less than the very best. There was no doubt in Jesse's mind that the Troubletones had beaten New Directions in the so-very-inspiringly-named _'Mash-Off'_. Shelby wasn't a national champion coach for nothing.

"Oh good," he deadpanned in response to Kurt's new campaign platform. "Glad to see he's not overreacting."

Jesse moved silently from the bed soon after the cigarette had finally burned out, both knowing he wouldn't stay.

"Might wanna get dressed before your mom comes home," he suggested causally, giving her wry smile as he closed the zip of his jeans.

Quinn arched an innocent brow. "I always sleep naked."

"Tease," he murmured, catching her eyes with a smirk by way of farewell.

He stopped only to pick up his jacket from the hallway as he left the house, letting the front door shut behind him as he made his way along the street and back to his car. He didn't know exactly what time it was but it was definitely late, the roads stretching out dark and quiet in front of him. His hand lingered on the key for a moment, before dropping away from the ignition with a weary exhale. He was in no real hurry to get home, so he withdrew his cell and unlocked the screen with an idle flick of his thumb. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he certainly wasn't prepared for what he found.

The text was short, barely a few words, and yet somehow still brimming with all the untamed emotion she embodied so passionately.

_Where the hell are you?_

His mouth curved in a grim smile, the gesture a stark contrast to the haunted pain in his eyes. Snapping the phone shut, he pulled at his hair and squeezed his eyes shut – fighting back the waves of crushing guilt and resentment that flooded over him. Jesse dropped his head back with a bone deep sigh.

_Hell._

Seemed like a pretty apt description.

**~o~**

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong> Okay, before people start flaming and shouting and chasing me into the hills with pitchforks, let me just say that I've never made any secret about my predilection for angst and heartache. As I so often try to show in my stories, the path to true love never runs smooth and even the strongest people can fall to their weaknesses. Fictional characters are no exception. We all make mistakes, its just a fact of life, and what would the final season of _Glee_ be without some drama and tears? Very boring, I imagine. I tried to right one of the worst wrongs of canon last chapter (I just _couldn't _live with that travesty nor did I have the heart to subject that to Rachel) … but life is rarely conveniently kind in its consequences. Jesse and Rachel really are their own worst enemies sometimes and growing up, being human, is very much a trial by fire. They too, will come to learn this. But please do not despair, lovely St. Berrians, there is always hope for the true of heart (Of which RIB are not, as they are clearly determined to assassinate Rachel's character and wouldn't know the definition of epic love if they fell over it)

This was a ridiculously long chapter and took a _really _long time to write, so please review? Seriously, with canon the way it is, they are the only things that give me the strength to watch this season. Thank you :)


	7. No Going Back

**Getting It Right – No Going Back**

* * *

><p>"<em>Oh, for here you are, and what was just a world is a star."<em>

Rachel felt herself smile at the familiar words as they carried clearly across the fresh air of the quad. Lifting her head from the Audrey Hepburn biography she had been pouring through and shielding her eyes in the bright sunlight, she turned to meet the two figures that were striding through the lunchtime crush and approaching her corner.

"Anton, my beloved," she declared, flashing a seductive smirk as she reached out a hand in greeting. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Blaine grinned, bowing elegantly to kiss her knuckles as Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Kindly stop hitting on my boyfriend."

"Hey, he started it," she protested, turning to her best friend with an innocent smile. "Is it my fault you're dating such a charming flirt?"

"Well, we couldn't have our Maria eating all alone," Blaine chuckled, sliding himself onto the seat opposite her.

"Yeah," Kurt agreed, jumping up onto the bench top and settling down cross-legged beside them. Pulling off his sunglasses, he hooked them into the ruffled collar of his scarf and ran a hand over the gelled quiff of his hair. "Where's your other half anyway?"

Rachel's expression fell ever so slightly though she hid it behind a quick shrug. "He got summoned into Figgins's office, along with Mr. Schue, Shelby and Santana."

Kurt snorted, the line of his mouth hardening in disapproval. "Three guesses what that's about."

"You don't think they'll actually kick her out over this, do you?" Blaine asked, no small hint of incredulity in his voice as he looked between the two friends. Kurt quirked an eyebrow in evident answer and his boyfriend shook his head with a sigh. "This is nuts. How can they take her to task over a stupid slap? They were pretty exceptional circumstances after all. Frankly, I think Finn should count himself lucky. She could have done a lot worse."

"They'll still count it as assault," Rachel muttered dully.

"And half the student body hurling slushies in our faces on a regular basis, shoving us into lockers and down stairs – that's just a natural part of the rough and tumble of high school? Perfectly acceptable just because it's an unconventional weapon choice?" Kurt retorted, almost spitting the words out through clenched teeth. "Seriously, the amount of abuse we've taken over the years and no-one has raised a voice or batted an eyelid... It's a joke. This school's priorities couldn't get more screwed."

Blaine laid his hand over Kurt's knee, a gentle gesture of restraint and comfort, a pained empathy in his eyes as his boyfriend met his gaze and offered him back a tight smile. Taking a breath, Kurt made an effort to lower the tones of anger in his voice.

"What Finn did was just as wrong, but we all know there will be no disciplinary consequences for _that_. It's just so unfair."

Blaine shrugged in weary defeat. "That's school boards for you."

Rachel picked at the remains of her lunch awkwardly, feeling a little between a rock and hard place when it came to this sensitive topic. As much as she might agree with her friends, she just couldn't bring herself to leave Finn out in the cold. So she bit her tongue. A forced habit that was becoming depressingly common practice. And so as Kurt and Blaine discussed recent events and the ensuing wider social politics back and forth, she chose to opt out of the conversation, turning inwards to her own thoughts in response. She needed_ someone_ to argue with after all, may as well be herself.

Rachel was trying to stay impartial, she really was, but it was hard. Honestly, she didn't know why she was reluctant to confront Finn over his actions, to state how she really felt and challenge him on such behaviour. She'd never held back when it came to anyone before – and more often than not, her determination to speak her mind had backfired in unforeseen and hurtful ways. She should be grateful she had gathered a little more tact and grace, even if it had been a painful lesson to learn. And yet sometimes it bothered Rachel when she thought about just how much she had changed over these few years. But maybe that was just what happened when you grew up. It wasn't a case of sacrificing her blunt honesty for social acceptance – it was just teaching herself to be a bit more considerate. It was compromise not submission. At least, that was what she told herself.

She had a precious but delicate balance in her life now, a circle of friends and a position of respect that had been hard won, and she was determined to preserve it. She couldn't go back now, not after everything she had gone through to get here. And Finn... The truth was that the fear of losing Finn had never quite abated from their tumultuous beginnings, not exactly helped by their endless cycle of break-ups and make-ups. Sometimes it felt like the divides of status and old insecurities lingered like ghosts under the surface, threatening to rear up and tear them apart all over again, and Rachel couldn't let that happen. If that meant being a bit more careful of what she said and how she said it, fine. She couldn't go back to that girl, the one no-one could stand to be around, despised and mocked and so alone with nothing to spur her on but her ambition. No-one wanted that girl.

"Oh!"

Her chin nearly slipped off her palm as she jerked up, surprised at the sudden exclamation and abrupt change in tone, only to see Kurt smiling smugly down at her from his perch. He gestured towards the book that lay on the bench in front of her, cocking an eyebrow as if it had just caught his attention, his expression an endearing mixture of pride and curiosity. "You're actually reading it."

"Of course I am," she said, throwing back her hair primly. "It's very wittily written. Of course, I knew a lot of it already, but there are still some very engaging insights and anecdotes."

Kurt grinned in triumph. "Told you."

Rachel rolled her eyes and glanced over towards the steps, currently scattered with chatting students. "She's still no Barbra though," she added in an easily audible aside, refusing to relinquish her stubbornness over their ongoing debate.

"Oh well, if that's how you feel I'll just take my book back –"

Kurt made a grab for the Hepburn biography across the bench but Rachel nimbly whisked it away and out of his reach.

"No!" she exclaimed indignantly. "I'm not finished yet."

Kurt smirked as he pulled back. "Rachel, you know you can't really compare them," he pointed out in exasperation. "They're two different but equally magnificent icons. They belong to different eras, styles and each created a different legacy. But you can't fault either for pure talent or charisma. They both redefined Hollywood."

Rachel pursed her lips, ever fiercely loyal to her idol. Of course she held _huge_ respect for many leading ladies. She looked up to a lot of exceptional people and would readily espouse her admiration for each of their iconic statuses. But still, there was only ever _one_ Barbra Streisand.

"Come on, guys," Blaine cut in between the bickering friends, looking suspiciously like he was trying to suppress laughter. "Call it a truce, huh? Hasn't your own alliance shown you that there's always room for more than one epic diva to share a stage?"

"I suppose so," Kurt conceded after a grudging pause. Holding onto his knees, he leaned back and looked to Rachel with something akin to fond disbelief. "You know, three years ago, I _never_ would have thought we'd ever end up like this."

"Yeah," she agreed, tilting her head in consideration. "You were pretty annoying back then."

Kurt scowled. "Says Miss Congeniality."

"God, you two argue like a married couple. You know that, right?"

"We do _not!_" Rachel and Kurt retorted, almost simultaneously, which only caused Blaine to lose the struggle to curb his amusement and burst out laughing.

The humour eventually caught up with the others and Rachel cracked a reluctant smile. "I suppose we have changed a lot. Sometimes I wonder what our younger selves would say if they could see us all now."

"It's probably best not to think about it."

"Hey guys."

The three students looked around at the interruption to see Finn walking up to join them. Rachel smiled a little brighter than normal and the boys murmured greetings as the footballer dropped himself down on the bench next to his girlfriend, seemingly oblivious to the subtle layer of tension that had fallen over their table. The note of discord was faint but it was there, a straining disapproval that disrupted the usual ease of familiarity. Naturally, Rachel talked to cover it.

However before the vague awkwardness could evolve into an _atmosphere_, Kurt uncoiled himself and jumped down from the bench. "Well, hate to bail, but I want to get to the gymnasium before polling opens. See you guys later."

Blaine looked a little uncomfortable as he glanced around the table before standing up to join his boyfriend, who was already slinging his bag over his shoulder and waiting expectantly.

"See you in rehearsal, Rach."

Rachel managed only a smile and nod in return, before the boys were heading off across the quad once more, back towards the school buildings. Finn watched them go for a moment, raising an eyebrow at the speed of their exit.

"Was it something I said?" he remarked, leaning over to steal a jelly tot from the open pack at Rachel's elbow. She frowned. The red ones were her favourite.

"They're just still a little upset over this thing with Santana," she said at last, seeing little point in being evasive.

"Why?" he asked, genuinely confused.

Rachel stiffened, her tone sharpening before she could help it. "You did out her most intimate secret in a very public way, and that's generally a rather big deal."

"I just told the truth." Finn shrugged a little defensively. "Maybe if she learned to accept herself she wouldn't feel the need to be so vicious to everyone else. Anyway, I just saved her ass from getting suspended with Figgins."

Rachel was relieved to hear it but chose not to ask him the details of their meeting. "It still doesn't change the upheaval she's going through," she said quietly.

Finn frowned in thought. "She's just freaking out because it's finally out there. Once she sees how behind her we are, the support she has…" His expression suddenly brightened with the resolve of inspiration and he turned to Rachel eagerly. "Hey, maybe I'll speak to the Troubletones, see if we can make into a musical theme this week. You know, to help her through, show solidarity and all that."

"I'm not sure," Rachel said slowly. "Just…don't force anything else on her. Pretty sure she's not looking for more attention right now. Let her deal with this her own way."

"I'm just trying to help."

"I know," she said softly, covering his hand with her own. "But maybe just leave things be. For a while." She smiled tentatively before moving to stand. "I have to go. I said I'd meet Mike and Tina to go through some choreography for the show,"

Rachel ran her hand over his shoulder as she turned to leave but Finn barely felt the parting touch, too busy mulling over what his girlfriend had just said. He supposed he could see the reason behind her advice, but to be honest he was more concerned about what a lack of action might result in for Santana.

After a few minutes, Finn nodded to himself and decided to push ahead with his original plan.

_/o/_

Mr Schue had of course leapt upon the idea of _'Ladies Music Week'_, enthused all the more by the addition of the Troubletones back into their ranks, no matter how grudging or brief the uneasy entente was. Promoting good inter-school relations and all that jazz.

Santana, on the other hand, seemed simultaneously furious and mortified at this unwelcome intervention being run on her behalf. Only Brittany's encouragement had got her to agree to come along in the first place, despite her assertion that suspension would be a preferable alternative to such condescension. But the cheerleader knew how uncomfortable her girlfriend felt about divisions of ill feeling within their little family, and so she had made the effort and kept her scathing comments to a minimum during the parade of '_uplifting'_ and utterly patronising performances she had been subjected to.

However when Finn jumped up and took to the floor next to sing his own special song of self-acceptance for her benefit, Santana felt the last thread of her restraint snap. Standing up abruptly, she ignored Brittany's gaze on her back and walked out of the choir room without a word.

Finn faltered to a stop through the first verse of his stripped down version of _'Girls Just Want To Have Fun'_ as Santana stormed out. Turning to the door he merely stared after her for a few moments, his brow furrowing in concern and confusion. "What's her problem?" he muttered at last, glancing around at the others who had varying expressions of sympathy and awkwardness on their faces.

Rachel met his eyes sadly and opened her mouth, but Kurt beat her to it.

"What did you expect?" he demanded in frustration. "You have no idea what she's feeling right now. Coming out is one of the biggest and hardest things she'll probably ever go through and it's for the _rest of her life._ Did you really expect her to be gracious and grateful when you effectively _threw_ her out of the closet without even an acknowledgment or apology?"

Mr. Schue stepped forward, casting a cautious glance over his kids and attempting to assert his authority. "I think what Kurt's trying to say –"

"What I'm _saying_," Kurt interrupted firmly, ignoring their teacher's diplomatic efforts keep the peace, "is that you can't make everything magically all better with a token theme week. Not this time." He held Finn's eyes with a stubborn set to his jaw, determined to say what needed to be heard. "Life doesn't work like that, not everything can be summed up and glossed over in a song. Some things you have to work for."

"That's enough," Will cut in sharply, making Kurt drop back in his seat and fold his arms. Rachel cast her eyes to the ground uncomfortably, silently agreeing with every word and wondering how Kurt had been able to say everything she couldn't.

"We all understand what a difficult time this is for Santana, and that's why it's so important to show our support –"

Finn stood lost in thought for a moment and didn't hear the rest of Mr Schue's speech to the glee club. Suddenly, he turned and headed out the door, his exit going unnoticed by their teacher and unannounced by his friends. Glancing up and down the hallway, he saw the cherry red of the familiar Cheerio jacket rounding the far corner. It didn't take him long to catch up with her, his long jogging strides closing the distance easily until he could touch her shoulder.

"Hey, Santana –"

"Don't touch me," she hissed, spinning around and shoving off his hand. Finn almost stepped back as the full force of her angry gaze fell on him, half expecting her to lash out again, but he quickly rallied himself and pressed on.

"Look, I didn't mean to –"

"You just never know when to shut up, do you?" she snapped dangerously, her voice rising with all the pain and resentment that she had been forced to carry. "Well, guess what? You're not the saviour of this story. You're not the golden boy, and you don't get to swoop in and make everything better. _You're_ the one who fucked up and as usual you've taken no responsibility or repercussions for it. No, it's _me _that's taking all the shit. It's _my_ life that's falling apart!"

Santana was the one to step forward this time, squaring up to the broad width of his chest, eyes blazing and utterly unfazed as she all but tore him down with the lethal lance of her fury. "Do you think that lame ass excuse about the slap makes us even? You think piping up in front of Figgins makes you a hero? Not by a long shot. Because I would do it again. And I just might if you don't get out of my face. Suspension be damned."

With that, she spun on her heel and walked away. Finn stood still and stared at her retreating back, momentarily stunned into shock by the raw emotion of her reaction. Shaking his head, he pulled himself together enough to call out quietly after her, a last ditch attempt at making any kinds of amends with the wounded girl who had once been his friend.

"I am sorry, you know."

A bitter smile cracked Santana's lips as she turned around to meet his face, something close to wistful regret in her eyes. "Too late," she murmured.

_/o/_

_There's a time for us, __  
><em>_Someday a time for us, __  
><em>_Time together with time to spare, __  
><em>_Time to learn, time to care __  
><em>_Someday_

Rachel reached out her free hand and touched her palm to Blaine's, pressing the tips of their fingers together. She held his eyes with a smile as her voice poured through the lyrics like liquid silk, rich and smooth and softly wishful. She could feel the gazes of their fellow cast members following the rise and fall of their song from the sides of the stage, perhaps hoping to glean some tips as to how true performers created musical magic before their own scenes came up. She felt Blaine tangle their fingers as he sang his lines before she joined his voice in harmony once more for the final verse.

_There's a place for us, __  
><em>_A time a place for us. __  
><em>_Hold my hand and we're halfway there. __  
><em>_Hold my hand and I'll take you there __  
><em>_Somehow, __  
><em>_Someday, __  
><em>_Somewhere!_

"Excellent," Artie announced enthusiastically. "The blocking definitely worked much better this time."

"Just beautiful," gushed Emma as Artie lowered his head to scribble further notes on his script. "The only thing I would say is bigger smiles. I mean, it is a love song after all. But other than that, it was perfect."

"You're wrong."

Rachel froze, her breath catching as an achingly arrogant voice cut through the air. Her heart jolted painfully, as if roused from a deep slumber and sent careening off into an abyss of feelings. All eyes immediately turned, lifting from the stage and up to the back of the auditorium – to the familiar and authoritative voice that had interrupted their rehearsal. As a darkly piercing gaze met her own in a shiver of silence, Rachel felt an uncanny bout of déjà vu wash over her. Anger started to simmer through the shock, turning sour in her stomach. Could he not open his mouth without correcting her performance?

Jesse took a moment to enjoy the speechless surprise on their faces, which was of course just the reaction he had aimed to produce. It was all a matter of dramatic timing. Finally unfolding his arms, he angled off from the doorframe and strolled down the steps, rolling off a litany of critiques in a bored tone without ever breaking stride. His lips curled in distain though his voice was every inch the astute professional as he ignored his stunned co-directors and addressed the couple on stage.

"The lack of movement is stilted and uninspired and drains the energy of the piece. You were late picking up the tempo change and anyway, clinical perfection means nothing if you pitch the emotion of the song wrong. This song's beauty is in its sense of melancholy. It's about love unfulfilled, broken chances and constant yearning, hope foreshadowing tragedy." His eyes found Rachel's and lingered, hard and unyielding. "This song isn't about smiles, it's about pain. The same universal pain that everyone with a heart can relate to."

Rachel scowled as he stepped onto the stage and finished his run down of their performance, which was less than complimentary yet just as brutally honest as ever. She stared at him, her mind struggling to catch up with the turmoil it had just been plunged into, relief and confusion and defensiveness fighting within her. She heard the others around them start to shift and murmur, clearly uncertain as to the current state of play on the game board, and the activity snapped her out of her state of shock.

"Well, thank you _so _much for those constructive insights," she said witheringly, regarding him with a cool disapproval. "But do you really think you can disappear without a word for days and then just show up again and start ordering us around?"

The look in his eyes and tilt of his lips clearly confirmed that he did. Not only that, but that he was actually _entitled _to.

"Try it again without these." Carrying on as if she had never spoken, Jesse stepped forward to pull the scripts out of Blaine and Rachel's hands before either could voice a protest. "You don't need them," he said firmly. "I know you think you do, but you don't."

Rachel opened her mouth to object. _Of course_ she knew the lyrics inside out, but she still wasn't feeling particularly inclined to give into him on any issue right now. Jesse caught her eyes with a shadow of a smirk, cutting her off before she could start.

"Time to fly without a net."

With that, he turned and walked over to take a seat beside Emma, leaving Rachel staring after him incredulously and without a retort. After a few awkward words from Artie that attempted to take the sudden reappearance of their vocal coach in stride, rehearsal stumbled back into action. It was clear that Jesse's return was a source of quiet relief for a lot of the cast, though no-one was prepared to admit it, least of all Rachel. After exchanging a last look with the boy in question, she threw herself back into her performance and determinedly avoided his eye for the rest of the song.

Quinn smiled to herself at the side of the stage, shaking her head slightly, suspecting that only Jesse could pull off such a stunt and get away with it. As the next scene began and the stage flooded with chatting cast members, she stepped out and made her way to her starting position, slowing only to lightly squeeze his shoulder as she passed his side. A touch of unspoken acknowledgement to which she received a small glance in return.

Across the floor, Rachel watched the subtle understanding that passed between the two unlikely allies with a frown. Turning away, she marched into the wings to await her next cue, refusing to recognise the confused hurt that set her stomach churning, or the pang of jealousy that riled her temper almost beyond her control.

_/o/_

"So what changed your mind?"

Jesse glanced up to see Quinn leaning back against the row of seats in front of him, arms crossed and expression softly amused. The stage below them was slowly emptying out, people dispersing to go their separate ways as time was called on rehearsal for the evening. He shrugged and tossed the script in his hand aside.

"It's the professional in me. I don't like to leave a performance incomplete. The show must go on, and all that."

She rolled her eyes. "More like the stubborn bastard in you," she muttered. He was here for Rachel and they both knew it. Jesse met her eyes with a silent smirk that spoke volumes.

"Anyway," he went on dismissively, "Sectionals is coming up soon and if I'm not here, Schuester will no doubt have you all furiously composing a cheesy power ballad about the triumph of the underdogs, twenty minutes before the curtain."

Quinn smiled. "Right. You're all about the greater good. So nothing whatsoever to do with an infuriating, raven-haired ingénue? Or maybe…" she teased, leaning forward in a conspiratorial whisper, "you just missed us. It's okay, you can admit it."

Jesse shoved her leg in reply and Quinn laughed as she quickly moved out of reach.

_/o/_

Rachel flipped distractedly through the record collection with one hand as she listened to the ringtone fill her ear, in search of hidden treasures.

Both her dads had been collecting music since before she was born and had of course shared their passion with their daughter. Their tastes were wide and varied and Rachel had embraced her life-long exposure to the broad spectrum of musical culture with an avid interest, an appreciation which she continued to nurture to this day. A smile drew her lips as she absently worked her way through the disks under her fingers. She had grown up surrounded by magical voices from across the eras, but none would ever quite match the lilting lullaby her dads had sung her to sleep with when she was little, the melody they still hummed softly when she turned to them for comfort now.

Along with their own acquisitions, she also bought them a new record every Fathers Day, and as a result the collection had expanded out of the lounge and into its own corner of their basement. Of course most of _her_ music was stored on her laptop, but there was something charmingly retro about the solid touch of records. Shifting the phone into the crook of her shoulder, she paused over a Miles Davis album before picking up an old recording of _Carmen_. She cast her eyes over the names on the jacket sleeve and her interest peaked. She hadn't heard this version.

Just then she heard the line connect at the other end, and she put the records aside to give the phone her full attention.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me. Just wanted to check in and see how you're doing."

There was a sigh. "I've been better."

Oh dear, he sounded depressingly low. Like _before-Blaine_ despondent. Rachel winced in sympathy, moving to settle down in the loveseat and tucking her legs up.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt. I voted for you."

"Well, that's makes you the only one."

"Will you stop it?" she scolded gently. "You know that's not true."

"Either way, I'm official screwed for NYADA."

Rachel sat up straighter with a frown. "What are you talking about?"

"Who are we kidding? We both knew this election was my last chance to get something big on my application. They'll never give me a second look now."

"Don't say that!" she ordered, distressed to hear him on the verge of giving up on their shared dream. She would be damned if she let him quit over something as stupid as this. It was just unacceptable. He wasn't allowed. She _needed_ him. "What's with this defeatist attitude? They'll love you, Kurt. You just need to give them the opportunity."

"Come on, Rach. The truth is that y_ou're _the one who deserves this, who's earned that chance. You've got the credits, the perfect record – hell, you've been working towards it all your life. This is your dream and you'll go make it happen like you always do."

She shook her head in protest. "Just because I figured out my dreams earlier, doesn't make them any more valid than yours. You have to at least try. You have a promise to keep after all," Rachel reminded him stubbornly. "I mean, what if I need an emergency makeover or a last minute soufflé? I can't go to New York without my best gay!"

"Glad you see your motives are altruistically selfish," he returned dryly, but she could hear him laughing. Rachel smiled, imagining him rolling his eyes at her on the other end of the phone. Well, anything that stopped him moping was fine by her. When he spoke again, she was relieved to hear him sounding more like himself. "If I'm being honest, I think the only way I would have won that election was if someone had rigged it."

"It did cross my mind," she teased.

"Well, I appreciate the sentiment, darling, but I'm glad you didn't. No point blowing both our chances."

"You think I would have got caught? Oh, ye of little faith."

"I think you've been hanging around Jesse too much when sabotage becomes your first instinct," he chuckled.

Rachel felt her smile fade, falling from her face like the sun dipping behind the clouds. She lowered her eyes, pressing her lips together as she fiddled with the cushion in her lap. Kurt however couldn't see her expression and missed the beat of silence that followed his tease, carrying on before she had a chance to change the subject.

"Speaking of which, what the hell was that all about in rehearsal? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he's back for the good of the show, but I have no idea what he's playing at. Did he ever say why he took off?"

"No," she grumbled sulkily. "He's just being an asshole."

"Nothing new there then."

That drew a reluctant smile from her and she was just about to voice her agreement when there was the sound of Kurt calling to someone at the other end of the phone.

"Sorry, I've got to go," he explained as came back on the line, "Blaine's just got here."

"No problem," she assured. "Go enjoy your evening. Say hi for me."

Kurt sighed. "It's under protest. I really don't feel like going out, but he's _refusing_ to stay in with me and watch sad movies with a tub of ice cream."

"He just wants to cheer you up. Let him spoil you," she said with an affectionate smile. "And then when you get home – you finish that application form, understand?"

"Yes mom."

"Shut up," she laughed.

After he had gone Rachel sat quietly for a moment, turning the phone over in her restless fingers as she stared at the opposite wall and chewed the inside of her cheek. Finally, she slid her legs down from the seat and headed up the steps that led into the rest of the house. She could hear her dad in the study but didn't stick her head in for a chat, instead turning to continue up the stairs again and into her bedroom.

Crossing the room, she pulled out the manila envelope that contained her own NYADA application and regarded it thoughtfully. It was still unsealed. Letting out a breath, she placed it carefully on desk and retrieved a single sheet of paper from the top drawer. She knew the letter of recommendation off by heart but Rachel still hesitated as she stared down at the perfect, neat signature that adorned the bottom of the page.

She had finally swallowed her pride and approached Shelby just the other day. She hadn't been keen on the idea, but with no word from Patti LuPone, it left her with little alternative. And frankly, NYADA was simply too important to let some unresolved feelings get in the way of giving herself the best chance possible. Shelby had signed the proffered, pre-scripted letter with no problem and Rachel had been polite and grateful and the event had passed in a fairly civil tone, if a little awkward.

Rachel closed her eyes as she remembered how the former coach of VA had spoken up as she had turned to leave, her voice reaching out to hold her in place like a trap of good intentions.

"_I'm so proud of you."_

Somehow those few words had lashed through Rachel like a stinging whip, smarting at old wounds that she had struggled so hard to close. Clenching her fingers tight around the folders pressed against her chest, she had bitten her tongue and suppressed the bitter voice that wanted to point out that she had no right to be. That Shelby was not at all responsible for the person Rachel had become, that she hadn't given her the ideals and confidence that guided her through life. No, that had been the ones who had raised her, who loved and supported her every single day, been there through every celebration and consolation, suffered through every tantrum and growing pang of youth. Shelby had made her choice when she had opted not to even try and be a part of her life.

But she didn't say any of that. Instead, she had turned her head only to offer a quiet _'thanks'_, the murmur of her voice almost swallowed up by the gaping silence of the auditorium. Shelby had smiled at her, looking like she wanted to say more, but Rachel had already resumed her path off the stage and didn't turn around again.

Opening her eyes once more, she took a deep breath and folded the letter over decisively, adding it to the rest of the papers and sealing the envelope. Then she slipped into her shoes and threw on her jacket, determined to run it straight to the post box, knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep until it was safely on its way to the NYADA application office.

_/o/_

"What was that?"

Quinn didn't react to the abrupt question, too used to the cheerleader's brusque manner to even quirk an eyebrow in surprise. Snapping the top back on her lip gloss, she didn't even bother to look away from the mirror as she spoke. "What?"

Santana made an impatient sound. Hopping up, she perched on the sink beside the former head Cheerio and studied her with a curious frown. "That little smirk between you and St. James in rehearsal yesterday."

"I don't know what you mean," Quinn replied calmly, though there was a flicker of a conspiratorial smile at the edge of her lips, one that her old friend recognised instantly.

Santana flashed a knowing grin. "Like hell you don't."

"Why do you even care?"

"Come on, I need _something_ to distract me from all the shit that's kicking off right now," she muttered bitterly, her eyes going dark and troubled as her own painful thoughts caught up with her for a moment. "And the worst hasn't even hit yet, trust me. Offering up some juicy gossip is the least you can do."

Just then the door to the bathrooms swung open, rudely interrupting their privacy. Santana whipped her head around and practically growled at the poor, startled sophomore that had unwittingly stumbled into their conversation. Cowering under the force of such a glare, the girl promptly scurried out again.

"So what's going on?" she demanded, turning back to continue their conversation without missing a beat. Quinn raised the black pencil to her lashes, completely unfazed by the display of her friend's powers of intimidation. They were used to ruling the roost after all. Santana picked up a nail file and leant back against the mirror, all the while keeping a shrewd eye on the girl next to her. "I know that look better than anyone. That's the _day after the night before _look." At Quinn's side glance, Santana gave a smug smile. "I can always tell. How do you think I exposed you and Finn last year?"

The blonde narrowed her eyes but the Latina was unapologetic in her tactics, only interested in satisfying her own curiosity and hearing all the dirty details. Quinn said nothing as she turned her attention back to the mirror and finished touching up her eyeliner, leaving Santana to draw her own conclusions.

Which she was more than happy to do.

A wicked grin spread across the cheerleader's lips and she leant forward eagerly. "Oh my god, you did? You actually bedded the infamous St. James?" Quinn's lips quirked and Santana laughed in approval. "Damn it girl, gotta say I'm impressed. And jealous."

She arched an eyebrow in amusement. "I thought he wasn't your type."

"I'm gay, I'm not _dead_," Santana corrected with a smirk. "I'd still tap that in a heartbeat."

The girls exchanged a smile and Quinn felt the familiar tug of camaraderie, a bond that would always be there. Even though they'd had their share of cat fights, bitching and backstabbing over the years and despite all the distance that had drifted between them – in that moment it was as if she were back in the Cheerios locker room, enjoying the thrill of girly gossip with her best girlfriends. There was still something there between them all, and as much as Quinn was reluctant to admit it – she did miss Santana and Brittany sometimes.

"It's not a big deal," she said at last, smiling as she started collecting the makeup back into her fabric purse. "It's just a bit of fun."

And it was. Wasn't it? Quinn frowned softly as she clicked her small mirror shut. This particular dalliance was certainly proving extremely pleasurable, far more than she had even anticipated. But that wasn't what had driven them into it and it wasn't what kept them turning to each other in their lowest moments. The truth was that Jesse was perhaps the only person who shared the same outsider feelings that plagued her. Who struggled with the same aching void of comfort that she did, the same anger, frustration and regret that fuelled their twisted relief in each other. The fact that he also shared her manipulative streak and his image fitted in nicely with her own was never going to hurt either.

Santana snapped her fingers in triumph. "Man, I _knew _there was something going on with you two. But still, I can't believe you started screwing the hottest guy in school and didn't even tell me!"

"So this is you claiming an _'I told you so'_, huh?"

"Hey, I'm just happy your taste in men has improved from my sloppy seconds."

Quinn rolled her eyes, running a hand through her tousled flicks as she appraised her reflection one last time.

"So, how was it?" Santana inquired shamelessly. "Worth all the hype?"

Quinn smiled in satisfaction, eyes glinting brightly with memories. "Let's just say that some reputations are _well _deserved."

Santana laughed and jumped down from her perch to fall into step beside Quinn, the door swinging shut behind them as the girls headed back into the bustle of the hallway.

Quiet fell once more.

The bathroom basked in the sudden silence for a few long moments, the stillness broken only by a faltering creak as the furthest cubicle door slowly pushed open.

Rachel stared numbly at the exit the two girls had just left through. Unseeing, unfeeling. The noise of the school just beyond sounded distant and echoing to her ears, muffled through the raging beat of her own heart. Call it a survival reflex, but she had never quite gotten out of the habit of ducking into the stalls whenever she heard the sharp, patented click of cheerleaders' feet. Now she wished she had just run out instead. Her fingers were white as they gripped around the lock of the stall, but she barely felt it as she stood alone in the engulfing emptiness, her mind reeling off into a battlefield of clashing emotions.

_Quinn._

It was always her. Every guy she had ever cared about had been involved with Quinn in some way. And now Jesse… Rachel gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, the tension escalating through her body until her muscles began to seize up. Why did that girl insist on taking everything from her? Was it not enough that she was prettier, more popular, got everything she ever wanted and had haunted Rachel's insecurities for as long as they had shared a school. Why did she have to do this? Why _Jesse?_

And how could he choose her? Rachel already knew that Jesse didn't see sex the same way she did, but how could he go to Quinn after everything he claimed to feel for _her?_ It was Rachel who he had professed to love, it was her for whom he had come to New York and returned to McKinley – and yet he had still ended up in Quinn's bed. It… it didn't make sense.

But Jesse wasn't hers. She had broken it off, turned him away, made her choice. She didn't have any right to care about his sordid entanglements anymore. She shouldn't care. She didn't care…

The pain came crashing in despite all her violent struggles to hold it back. The numbness crept up her hands and into her arms and she lost her grip on the door, her skin tingling and feet stumbling as she backed up clumsily. Her breath came out hard and shallow as fire burned in her throat. She prayed for the numbness to reach her heart, to drown out the poison there that _hurt_ so much, but it never did.

She blinked desperately but the dams in her eyes were defiant to all her protests. She didn't feel the wall at her back, didn't register the cool surface seep through her clothes as she slid down to slump on the floor of the stall, too distracted to even recoil at the unsanitary conditions. She didn't feel her forehead drop to her legs, her hair sticking to her cheeks. Not until the salty streams dripped onto her bare knees did she flinch – only then to find that it was too late.

And so Rachel gave in, let herself be weak, to wallow in incomprehension and aimless grief and anger, just for a moment. She didn't understand and she didn't want to, refused to acknowledge the gaping maw of betrayal that tore through her lungs. For one moment she stopped fighting, tired of trying to make sense out of chaos, and just let herself be lost.

_/o/_

Brittany sang softly to herself as she floated around her room, sweeping a brush through her hair as she got ready for bed. She didn't really know the name of the tune but it made her think of the bubblegum advert for some reason. Stopping by her dresser she replaced the hairbrush and pulled her long, golden locks back into a ponytail, examining her reflection with a satisfied nod. It was then she noticed a heavy purring from her bare feet and looked down to see a rotund, furry face staring up at her curiously. Brittany sighed, crouching down to tickle behind his ears as Lord Tubbington continued to wrap himself around her legs with a vocal insistence of attention.

"You see, this is why I don't like you staying up to watch Animal Planet. It gets you too excited," she reprimanded in concern. Scooping the placid cat up in her arms, Brittany carried him over to his bed in the corner of her room and laid him patiently back down, tucking him in and rubbing his belly until with a contented yawn, he finally curled up to sleep.

She was just standing up again when there was a soft knock on her balcony doors, the sound quiet and hesitant, almost as if it didn't want to be heard. With a frown, she walked over and slid the lock, plucking at the edge of the curtain. Brittany peered out into the dark night for only a second before she quickly pulled the door open, eyes wide as she breathed out her surprise almost in a prayer.

"San…"

Santana flinched at the whisper of her name, seeming to close up on herself even further as she stood there on her best friend's bedroom porch. Her arms were huddled tight around her middle as if she didn't know what to do with her hands, fists digging into the folds of her jacket, every muscle stiff and defensive and on guard from the world. Her gaze was averted and cast low but Brittany could still see the silent tears that spilled down her girlfriend's cheeks, streaking her face and brimming in her eyes, and that worried Britt more than anything else. She could count on one hand the number of times she had seen Santana cry, and she knew that something immense must have happened to break down those barriers.

"I'm – I'm sorry," Santana spoke haltingly, her voice rusty from use as she finally looked up to meet her girlfriend's distressed eyes. "I didn't know where else to go…"

Brittany quickly enveloped her in her arms, holding tight as Santana gratefully crumbled against her, surrendering to her lover's comfort like it was her only source of air.

"Oh, baby, it's okay. Shhh…"

Brittany mumbled the endearment over and over as she gently pulled them inside and over to her bed, where Santana all but collapsed into her embrace as she finally lost the fight with her grief. As distraught, muffled sobs wracked the girl she loved, tearing away at her own heart with each shaking gasp against her shoulder, Brittany could do nothing but rock her best friend soothingly and attempt to calm her as best she could. She stroked through Santana's tangled hair, traced her damp cheeks and listened to the sound of her heartbeat pressed against her own, desperate to somehow make it all better. She had never felt a desire so keenly in her life, nothing had ever been so important. Brittany never liked to see anyone suffering, but when it was _Santana_… it felt as if someone had drained all the oxygen out of the room.

They stayed like that for a long time, clinging to each other hard enough to leave bruises. Brittany just wanted to make her girlfriend's pain go away, to stop it hurting, but she had no idea _how._ And so she just held her trembling form as tight as she could while Santana quietly choked on her tears, murmuring her love in her ear and trailing her fingertips softly up and down her back. She _knew_ she should have gone with her, but Santana had been adamant and the cheerleader knew that nothing would dissuade the Latina from her decisions once they were made.

She had never seen Santana so devastated and it broke her heart to pieces. Brittany didn't know what to do, but she hushed and held and loved the girl in her arms with every ounce of devotion in her. And that would never, ever change.

Finally they fell into a gentle quiet. Santana's breathing evened out and the tension eased out of her shoulders as her body shuddered with exhaustion. Brittany let her reign in her control for a few more minutes, playing absently with the ends of her dark silky hair as she waited.

"What happened?" she asked quietly when she felt her girlfriend was at last ready, knowing she needed the small push to let her open up. She felt Santana pull back with a broken sigh, shaking her head as she dropped her gaze to the bed under them. Brittany let her go, though their hands stayed clasped together on their laps.

"They… they told me not to come back."

Brittany watched as fresh tears slipped free from those exquisite eyes, that proud voice cracking with pain, and laced their fingers tightly in defiance.

"They won't have meant it," she assured, concerned with nothing else but calming and comforting the girl in front of her.

"Maybe they did," Santana muttered flatly, helpless and resigned, as if all the fight had been beaten out of her. "I mean, I knew they would have a problem with it, that it would be hard to understand and accept, but…they wouldn't even listen. They just didn't want to know. They're _ashamed _of me, of what I am. And my abuela, she… she said that secrets should be kept. That it was a sin to tell them when they hurt others, to be open about such things."

Brittany watched her girlfriend wince at the memory, and her heart clenched painfully at the sight. She knew just how close Santana was with her grandmother, how much sway her opinion had. To hear such words of rejection from the beloved matriarch would only be a crippling blow to Santana, one that had the power to shake her whole world.

"Maybe they're right. I mean, if Finn hadn't…" She tensed and trailed off. Brittany squeezed her hand. Santana took a breath and composed herself enough to carry on. "Maybe no-one would've ever had to know. What's so wrong with that? No one cares so long as they don't have to be confronted with it. I…I could've dealt with that."

"I couldn't," Brittany said softly. Santana turned to her and Britt gave a small wistful smile as she met her eyes. "Do you really want to live your life like that? Always hiding? Never being who you are." She tugged gently on their entwined fingers in point, words tender and sincere with all the warmth of her affection. "I want to be able to walk down the corridor and hold your hand. I want to tell the world that I'm yours and you're mine and I couldn't be happier. I'm so proud of you and I want everyone to know it. And I want to kiss you up on that election platform when they crown me because you're the only one I want to share that moment with."

Santana felt herself smile for the first time in what felt like the longest night of her life, a lightness of spirit that only Brittany could ever evoke. She didn't even try to correct her girlfriend over the minor detail that class presidents didn't get "crowned" as such. Hell, if Britt wanted a crown, she would damn well make her own and Santana would do the coronation. "I know. Me too, baby." She touched Brittany's cheek with reverent fingertips, before shaking her head as she pushed through the ache in her throat. "But I can't lose them…"

Brittany raised her hand to catch Santana's where it lingered against her face, pressing a kiss to her palm. "You won't," she said firmly, with such simple confidence that Santana couldn't help but believe her, however briefly. "They'll come around. They have to. And if they can't see you for the amazing person you are, then they're just…idiots."

Santana's lips flickered in a ghost of a smile as she reached out to tuck a lock of honey hair behind Brittany's ear. Tears glimmered in her eyes but she made no attempt to wipe them away, her voice dropping to a whisper along with her gaze. "I'm so scared, Britt…"

Never before had Brittany heard those words leave her love's mouth, and the soft confession threw her into uncertainty for a moment. She stared into the face she loved so much, struck at the bare honesty in those gorgeous features, as she tried to absorb this strange new territory between them. Santana had always been the one in control, always taken care of them, always protected her and known what to do. She had always been strong in the face of the world. She wasn't afraid of _anything_.

And yet, Brittany slowly came to realise, this was simply a different kind of strength for her. The emotional courage to admit one's deepest fears and still face them anyway, even more to entrust them to another. Santana just needed someone to show her how to embrace all the power that blossomed under such a strong will and heart. And though it was a little daunting, Brittany felt a swelling warmth and resolve buoy up inside her, and she knew that she wanted nothing more than to show this girl just how incredible she truly was. Now it was her turn. She sat up determinedly though her touch was feather light as she held her girlfriend's face, tracing the rim of her jaw as she looked into her eyes with a deep and unfaltering conviction.

"And that's okay," she whispered, "because we'll figure it out together. You're so much stronger than them, San. You can do this. You're brave…" Brittany kissed the spot her fingertips had just caressed, smiling softly against the curve of her jaw, "and beautiful…" she pressed a kiss to her still damp cheek, the sweet salt of spent tears lingering on her lips. "And fierce…" A watery laugh escaped the girl under her touch and Brittany smiled as she moved up to carefully kiss her closed eyelids, "real and wonderful…" Her fingers slid into a river of black silken locks as she finally moved down to capture Santana's parted lips, murmuring the warm words against her mouth, "and _perfect_."

It was a sentiment that was returned with equal ardour as the lovers sank into a lingering embrace of heat and tears. When Santana reluctantly drew back from the slow, soft comfort of their kiss, she pulled away only enough to rest their foreheads together, unwilling to relinquish any more distance between them. For a long moment neither of them moved, content to simply embrace the assurance of touch, breathing in the quiet.

"You're right," Brittany continued at last, tilting their faces gently so she could meet Santana's eyes with a serene smile. "You're not like them. You're different. _We're_ different. And I love being different. Different is magic."

Santana stared at her girlfriend with a mixture of awe and disbelief, unable to even find the will or want to argue. She so wished she could be like her. Britt found such joy in the differences that others would use to divide, something special, something to love always in the world around her. She was stronger that Santana could ever hope to be.

"Can I...stay?" she asked cautiously, before rushing on to hide the uncomfortable weakness in such a request. "Just for tonight."

Brittany beamed at her. "You can stay always," she answered immediately. And she truly meant it.

Santana hesitated as she contemplated the depth behind her best friend's invitation. Could she really do that? She dropped her gaze as varying instincts went to war inside her at the thought of such a prospect. It was an outcome she hadn't ever considered throughout all the turmoil of this night, and she didn't know quite how to feel about it. She already knew that Brittany's parents were generous and forgiving and liked her well enough. They had never interfered in her relationship with Britt, always been kind, always courteous. But still, the thought of living here, of asking them to take her in… it was a blow to Santana's pride that stung even now. But what choice did she really have, she thought bitterly. And if she was being honest with herself, there was nowhere else she would rather be, no one else she could imagine being with when the world turned cold around her. She couldn't bear the thought of facing the coming time without Britt. Yet she refused to be that selfish when the fact was that it would only end up hurting the person she loved.

Santana frowned at her depressing thoughts. "Won't that just make things worse?" she muttered sourly. "The _queers_ shacking up together. This town will have a riot."

"I don't care," Brittany said calmly, "and you shouldn't either. Forget about them. Their lives are small and narrow and they will never see anything beyond their front doorstep. This is about us. What do _you _want?"

Santana raised her eyes to meet those twinkling blue stars that shined at her earnestly. "To be with you," she breathed quietly, overwhelmed again by the innocent and powerful wisdom of her smart girlfriend.

Brittany smiled with such unashamed love and happiness that Santana felt as if the sun itself was drying the tears from her face.

"Come on," Britt said softly as she reached out to run a hand along her shoulder. Taking the hint of encouragement, Santana sighed but obliged as she slid off her jacket, letting Brittany stand to carefully hang it up on the back of her door. Suppressing a sudden yawn, she pushed off her shoes, too tired to make any other concessions before Britt rejoined her and they climbed under the covers.

The bedside lamp glowed low in the night darkness as the lovers curled up beside each other, arms and legs tangled together in a tender knot of belonging. Santana was beyond exhausted as she finally shut her eyes. Her mind was restless but she forced herself to lay still, to try and forget about everything that existed outside this room, everything that was still waiting for her. For them.

She could hear Britt humming dreamily as she coaxed her love to sleep, felt her kissing the tears off her cheeks, and for the first time in so, so long, Santana felt safe. Protected. Loved. Wholly and completely.

Things would never be the same, she knew that. There was no going back now.

"I know things are bad at the moment," Brittany murmured as she continued to soothe the tension from Santana's weary form, "but it will feel better in the end. I promise."

Santana smiled faintly and nestled closer, feeling the stubborn resentment slowly begin to melt away in the warmth of such words. Her fingers stroked along her girlfriend's waist and Britt tangled a hand gently in her hair, pulling her close to press her lips to her forehead.

Because Brittany promised, and her promises meant the world to her. The only thing that Santana truly trusted.

_/o/_

It had been an eventful and draining week for the glee club but at last it was Friday afternoon, and the end of the day could not come soon enough for Rachel. She had never needed out of this place more and her feet itched with desire for distance, to run and not look back. The school corridors felt claustrophobic, pressing in on all sides and holding her captive to the tedium of lectures and the inane chatter of her peers. And it was doing her head in.

She was on route to her last class, her movements on autopilot as she navigated the usual rush that filled the hallways between periods, when she saw him.

He was coming out of Miss Pillsbury's office, head bowed and pinching the bridge of his nose, looking very much as if he were fighting off a migraine. Rachel stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, ignoring the disgruntled mutter of the students who pushed past her impatiently. Her insides lurched violently, her emotions falling into anarchy so quickly that she couldn't tell one from the other, a vice clamping sharply somewhere in her chest. As if sensing her gaze, he glanced up in her direction and Rachel instantly turned around, disappearing into the opposite stream of traffic in the corridor. She would take the long way to class.

Jesse glimpsed Rachel through the crowd for only a moment as she turned and all but ran from him. He frowned. She must still be pissed at him for ditching rehearsals. He debated following her but just then his cell rang and he was distracted. Rachel's sulking would just have to wait.

_/o/_

"Alright, alright," Finn muttered under his breath as he thudded down the last couple of steps and headed towards the front door, where someone apparently had their finger glued to the bell. "Jeez, where's the fire?"

When he finally opened the door to his insistent visitor, he blinked in surprise.

"Rachel?" His brows drew together as he took in her anxious expression, confused at her sudden appearance on his doorstep. "I thought you had dance class tonight."

"I just… I wanted to see you."

Before Finn could say anything in response, Rachel had let herself in and caught him in a tight hug with such force that he almost stumbled back a step. She wrapped her arms under his shoulders and pressed her face into his chest, closing her eyes as she felt him quickly recover his balance and move to complete their embrace. She knew her behaviour must seem a little odd, but at that moment she didn't much care. She just soaked in the solid assurance of his arms as he held her, breathing in the familiar comfort of his clothes, his touch, the security of his love.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked after a moment, resting his head on top of hers.

"Yeah. I just...missed you." Her face was still hidden, her voice muffled, but her hold on him tightened if anything.

He smiled a little, shaking away his bemused concern as he pulled her closer. It seemed like far, far too long since she had held him so fiercely, like he was the only thing that mattered, and it eased the vague cloud of tension that had been lingering in the back of his mind recently. He couldn't see the conflicted pain in her eyes that were cast down from him, nor could he identify the creeping desperation in her tone as such when she spoke again.

"You know what you said about going away? Let's do it."

Finn had to think for a moment, searching his memory to recall what she was talking about. Then he remembered. His uncle had a small cabin by the lake that lay about an hour and half out of town, and it was always vacant through much of the winter months. He'd suggested the idea of having a weekend away before but Rachel had been non-committal, saying she was too busy to take time off, what with all her performance classes, the musical, the elections and glee club. Finn didn't know why he had felt such compulsion for the idea, but it seemed important. Just to get some time alone, away from here and... old memories. There had been something distant in her lately, a subtle shift in the ease of their company together that neither was prepared to acknowledge, and he wanted to fix it. He wanted things to be the way they were again.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she said, lifting her chin to look up at him. "Let's do it. Let's go."

"Wait, right now? What about the musical?"

Rachel shook her head, as if trying to throw off a painful headache. "It's fine," she assured him stubbornly, "they can go one evening without me."

Normally such a statement from Rachel would have given someone pause, but Finn found himself too grateful at her change of mind to try his hand at tempting fate. He smiled at her and she tried to echo it back. "Okay," he murmured in agreement. He kissed her forehead and Rachel felt a tight relief within her heart. Space. She just needed…space. The time to clear her thoughts and get her head back together. And who better to spend it with than the boy she loved, who had been there with her through everything and knew her better than anyone else. The smile stayed on her lips as she hugged him, bright with determination, for if she could just feel it on the outside then eventually it would feel true on the inside. Appearance was ninth tenths of reality anyway for a performer's heart like Rachel's.

_/o/_

Maybe she should have thought this through better.

Rachel frowned as she looked down at the piles of clothes that lay before her. Finn was coming to get her in an hour so she couldn't exactly afford to be picky with her packing, but she had still emptied out her dresser and dumped the contents of the drawers onto her bed in a disorganized heap of colour and fabric. She had never been good at travelling light.

Sighing tiredly, she began sifting through the assortment of clothes, throwing the odd item into the rucksack at her feet. It was only two nights after all; she really shouldn't need _that_ much. Lifting up a polka dot sundress, she suddenly hesitated as her gaze fell upon a familiar sweater, one that had once been a staple in her wardrobe but had since lain forgotten at the bottom of her drawer for the past year.

A slight smile touched her lips as she ran her fingers over the bumpy stitching, weaved through with so many memories, as warm as they were painful. She could still remember the last time she had worn this particular garment.

"_I'm just gonna get changed," she announced as she nudged the bedroom door shut behind them, dropping her school bag to the floor and kicking off her shoes. _

"_Oh no you don't," he teased with a smile, reaching out to catch her wrist from where he lounged on the bed, pulling her down to the mattress to join him. "You know what a wool polyester blend does to me."_

_Rachel laughed, rolling her eyes but making little effort to disentangle them. "Hey, you were the one who said my 'strange affinity for sweaters with animals on them' was a detriment to my hotness."_

"_If you recall correctly, that was actually the popular consensus, not my own opinion. And I've reassessed my stance," he pointed out smugly. "As sweater patterns go, I think woolly unicorns are sneakily sexy. Turns out there's something about unfitted tailoring that's mysteriously alluring."_

"_Such as?" she probed curiously, biting back a smile._

_He smirked. "Well…you could be wearing just about anything underneath," he replied smoothly as he leaned over on his elbow, fingers plucking playfully at the neckline of her sweater. _

"_Or nothing at all," she breathed out through the shallow air between them, their faces temptingly close. She didn't know what made her say it. She was never normally this boldly teasing, but since his return to her life a few days ago with his forgiveness, she had been craving to be as close to him as possible. Plagued by a sense of precious urgency, as if she feared he would slip away through her fingers at any moment._

"_Now there's an intriguing proposition."_

_She cocked an inviting eyebrow, her heart hammering under his wandering touch. "No-one's stopping you…"_

_Jesse grinned and slowly coaxed the sweater over her head, both laughing as he revealed yet another layer in the form of a buttoned up blouse. "Little minx," he muttered hotly, catching her lips as she giggled and happily wrapped her arm around his neck. _

Rachel pulled back from the echoes of her memory with a sharp shake of her head. Clenching her fists, she balled up the jumper in her white knuckles and hurled it back into the depths of the closet. _I'm not that girl anymore_, she wanted to scream. She wasn't the laughing stock of her peers on a daily basis, she didn't dress like a twelve year old, she didn't have to bow and scrape for the attention of the quarterback anymore. She didn't incite hatred and mockery every time she opened her mouth these days, she knew better than to speak that same forthright honesty that had cost her so much. She no longer spent her evenings alone, singing into the mirror and imagining a better future through the glittering lights that shone back through her tears.

She wasn't the same girl that had fallen in love with _him_.

Rachel slammed a door on the closet with shaking hands.

_/o/_

The night air was refreshingly cool on her face, but the soft heat of the body pressed against her own was more than enough to keep her warm in the evening breeze. They were sat out on Brittany's front porch, idly watching the few stars they could see through the city lights and listening to the faint chorus of crickets that chirped from the undergrowth. Santana had always liked this neighbourhood, it was so quiet and peaceful compared to her own.

"You do realise you're missing your own victory party," she remarked quietly at last.

Brittany smiled, the loose waves of her hair tickling Santana's neck as she leaned in close to her ear. "No, I'm not."

Santana closed her eyes as she leaned back in her girlfriend's embrace, her body nestled between Brittany's arms, her fingers stroking absently along the slender wrists of the hands that held her close.

"Things will be different, you know." Santana opened her eyes as she heard Brittany speak again, her tone thoughtful but determined. "Now I'm president, I have the power to change things, to make things better. I can fight for you, for us, and the school will have to listen."

An apprehensive frown touched Santana's face. "Baby, I don't think that will do any good and they'll just punish you for trying. Don't go looking for trouble. This election means so much to you, why risk it?"

"Because I love you," Britt answered simply, confused at why Santana would even ask such a thing. "And I want you to be happy."

Santana shivered at the aching honesty in those words, shifting her body so their faces were level and she could look her best friend deep in the eyes. "_You_ make me happy," she whispered, leaning in to catch Britt's smile with her own as she pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

A muffled ringing suddenly broke the quiet evening, interrupting their enjoyment and causing Santana to pull away in frustration as she yanked out her cell. She glanced over the screen, her expression darkening in pain at the caller ID that flashed up.

_Home_

But they weren't her home. Not anymore. She hesitated before finally hanging up. They knew where she was. If her parents were really interested in speaking with her, they could make the effort to come and see her face to face. Santana's infamous anger had sparked to life in the storm of her grief, and it was a hard flame to put out.

"Who was it?"

"No one," she lied.

Brittany studied her for a long moment and Santana got the feeling she was looking right through her, past the bravado of habit she could read so well. When it came to the encryption of Santana's emotions, there was no better decoder than her fellow Cheerio.

"You're going to have to talk to them sometime."

"But not tonight," Santana returned firmly, looking up to meet her gaze. "This is your night."

"It's ours," Brittany corrected with a smile, gently linking their pinkies together in a silent promise.

Santana sighed as she rested her head on Britt's shoulder, tilting her face towards the sky as her girlfriend played tenderly with her dark tresses. Brittany laid a kiss to the side of her neck, their bodies wrapped tight around each other as they leaned back against the porch, soaking in the moonlight that shone over their heads.

_/o/_

Rachel listened to the sound of Finn's soft snores as she carefully reached for the remote beside them, turning off the movie credits and plunging the room into darkness but for the flickering fire that glowed in the hearth in front of them.

Adjusting her head against the sofa cushions they were curled up on, she settled into their embrace once more, hunkering down under his arm which rested over her waist and held her close. It had been well after ten when they had arrived at the cabin, having picked up dinner on the way, so she could only imagine it must be some time in the early hours by now. Letting out a deep, slow breath, Rachel stared into the dwindling flames and tried to will her mind to succumb to the tiredness that consumed her body.

She couldn't help but feel relieved that Finn hadn't seen this weekend as an invitation to pick up where they had left off. They deserved a perfect moment when they finally took that step and that was nothing like right now, not when she was fighting with her feelings like this. Rachel shut her eyes, closing her hand lightly over his and drawing comfort from the weight of his touch wrapped around her. And yet she was dismayed to find that she still couldn't shake off the whispering demons that haunted the darkest corners of her thoughts, the lingering feeling that she longed to be falling asleep in someone else's arms.

Rachel locked her lips tight against the broken gasp that threatened to escape her. But that was all wrong. And that someone else had no place in her heart and no path back for redemption, and she would fight the choking grasp of his memory with every shred of strength in her. Rachel felt the familiar sting of salt against her skin but couldn't even raise a hand to wipe it away. The droplets rolled mockingly down the curve of her cheek, glowing softly in the dying embers of the fire that reflected upon her face, but still she refused to open her eyes.

She loved Finn. This would pass. She loved Finn.

And the rhythm of that mantra slowly lulled her into a restless sleep, easing her into the darkness, even as fresh tears broke free and continued to stream silently down her face.

**~o~**


End file.
